


conundrum

by sutera



Category: The Last Remnant
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sutera/pseuds/sutera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate is cast to the winds, and there's no telling what will happen now. When a chance moment of jealousy overwhelms a young Rush, he runs away from home-- only to be taken in by Wagram, and subsequently, the Conqueror.</p><p>"So how old are you anyway, Conky?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am totally not starting another multi-chaptered fic orz orz lkjaslkfj i had originally planned for this to be a one-shot but then i realised how non-one-shotty it's turning out so lkjslakfj......  
> this doens't mean i'm abandoning my other fic!! i'm just lkjasf i have a lot of ideas right now and lksafjksljf stares at unfinished one-shots in folder as well omg lkjaslkfj I WILL GET AROUND TO FINISHING EVERYTHING.. EVENTUALLY... laskfj  
> 

In another life, Rush may have actually grown to like Irina.

He may have loved her as an older brother truly would have, he may have sworn to protect her no matter the cost. They could have truly been _siblings_ , friends who look _out_ for each other with a bond that could not be broken.

Instead, he grows with hatred festering in his heart.

He sees her, and he cannot bear to look at her any longer than necessary. She speaks to him, but he doesn’t want to hear her words, whatever they may be. With jealousy coiling around his heart with ease, he finds that it is just as easy to pack up and leave. He knows when he’s not wanted _nor_ loved and that his parents preferred Irina over him—they always will and they always _have_.

The night he _does_ leave, it is on impulse and he doesn’t take anything with him. There are no thoughts pertaining to such a concern when there is a dark cloud obscuring reason, and it is this same dark cloud that pushes him to _run_ , to never look back because _this isn’t where he belongs_. No one wants him there, not when they have _Irina_.

He doesn’t know _where_ he’ll go, he doesn’t pause in his running nor does he _wish_ to. His lungs are _burning_ and there is this _roaring_ in his ears that will not _stop_ ; no sound escapes him save the fluidity of coalesced frustration and _pain_ from the brims of his eyes and he wants this agony to _end_. He wants _love_ , no matter how _childish_ the thought is. He wants a family and he wants _attention_ , faces to love him and for him to love back _equally_. _Nothing_ like the people he has just left, so _obvious_ in their preference of who they love more.

 _Or maybe… there’s just something wrong with **me**_.

“Child. You’ve run far from home.”

He hadn’t realised he’s stopped, kneeling now upon the grassy cliff overlooking the shores of Eulam. He’s breathing hard, but it does not take much for him to finally lift his head.

White cloths. That is all he can make out within the blanket of darkness that is this island currently.

“Are you alone?”

 _Alone_?

It is a prospect he hasn’t given thought to yet, but considering the actions he’s now taken, he hasn’t a home to go back to. No _family_ to welcome him back. For a moment, his eyes prickle once _more_ and he’s reminded of the tears that have already streaked his face. He wipes them away angrily.

No, being alone is far better than always being put _second_ , unwanted and _unloved_.

The figure before him kneels to meet his level and he notes with rising curiosity how one of the other’s eyes are covered with a flap. There is a thought to reach up and inspect behind it, a notion purely innocent and _impulsive_ , and perhaps there’s even a slight _movement_ towards it but there spreads a smile across weathered features.

“I will take your silence as a yes.” The white-robed man stands suddenly, and he has the need to stand—albeit shakily—with him as well. “Come, then.” A sudden movement, and the older male is whipping his hand out to the side—no, some _thing_. A… what is that? A flick of the wrist, and it expands, and the man motions to cover his lower features with it. So fixated on the new object, he does not notice the hand that is outstretched to him before it beckons in something like impatience.

“Well, boy?”

He hesitates then. Eyes drift past ivory, and he glimpses the crashing waves of the beach. It’s beautiful, how the moonlight shines off the rippling textures, and in his mind he recalls picnics shared with his mother and father, remembers such awesome _moments_ and how they… _stopped_ the moment Irina came into this world.

He doesn’t belong here anymore.

A hand reaches out, and takes the offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this prologue, rush is around 9-10 and so irina would be around 5-6. the whole rush ditching irina in the woods thing never happened because the time in which this is set would be way before that happened since their parents haven't ding dong ditched them to go to the academy (apparently ditching runs in the family). in essence, this will change a lot of things. i hope y'all will roll with me on this new journey!! ;D


	2. Chapter 2

_Eight years later_

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hitting on me.” There’s a drawl entering Rush’s tone as he lifts a cup to his lips. Tonguing the rim briefly to garner a taste of the alcohol within, dark brown hues, tinged with a vivid _green_ , meet the gaze of the bartender he’s had many a banter with before.

He’s met with a cock of the head and a simple laugh. “Oh, as _much_ as I would _love_ to do so, being as _cute_ as you are, there’s only one person my heart is ready for~” It’s here the tone turns dreamy, and Rush has to roll his eyes despite a grin tugging at his lips. He knows _exactly_ who the other is talking about, for the cause of affection isn’t exactly one that is well _disguised_.

“You’re gonna launch into more stories, aren’t you?” Rush asks dryly, but inwardly, he’s _always_ curious about this one person, somehow fascinated with the _strength_ they wield and show to _all_.

The barkeep waves his hand airily. “You know me well, young sir. Lord David Nassau is quite an _extraordinary_ man— if he were to set foot in this pub once again, I think I would just _faint_ from the pleasure of seeing him!”

It’s here that Rush’s features scrunch up. “ _Gross_.” He exclaims, almost dropping his mug at the _audacity_ the other possesses. And maybe he’s a little _envious_ of the shamelessness he seems to bear as well. After all, he himself isn’t always _perfect_ when trying to pick someone up. Though he may ooze confidence at times, it isn’t necessarily _sturdy_.

“Oh? You don’t act that way around this… _Rose_ character of yours, then?” The other leans forward, a mischievous smile upon handsome features.

Immediately, a crimson tint starts to make it’s way up Rush’s neck, and he can only manage a half-hearted glare. “It’s _Roeas_. A-and that’s nasty, anyways! She’s not—it’s not like—!”

“You’ve said you had a crush on her once, when you were younger.” A snicker, and the barkeep continues to wipe the mug in hand. “You were a _tad_ bit intoxicated at the time, dearie, but you _do_ remember admitting to it, right?”

 _Not really_.

And he doesn’t want to recall this moment _either_ , if that’s the case. He decides to take a large swig of his drink, and almost chokes at the burning liquid swishing down his throat.

When Rush doesn’t answer, he continues. “You know, you’ve never told me what this chick is _like_. Share some of the _deets_ , I would _love_ to hear them!”

Clearing his throat once, he puts down his mug. “What’d you wanna know?” He finally responds warily, squinting at the other. Is it him, or is his vision getting a little blurry?

“What does she look like? Blonde or brunette? Is she nice and muscular and _strong_ or is she one of those silent, _shy_ types?” He leans forward, positively _sparkling_ with enthusiasm. There’s a come hither motion with his hands, _eager_ for whatever he has to say.

In spite of everything, Rush finds himself _laughing_. The thought of Roeas being _shy and silent_ really does _not_ fit her at all and he has to stifle several immature _giggles_ at the image.

Ah, shit. He’s already drunk, isn’t he?

“She’s blonde, and she _really_ doesn’t leave much to the imagination with her armour. ‘Nd honestly, she’s the _complete_ opposite of shy and silent. _Really_. She can literally scream your ear off in a _second_ if needed— _not_ a fun experience, I can tell you that now.” He gives a short laugh, inwardly wincing at how he accidentally caught her undressing one time. While she hadn’t seemed very embarrassed about it, that didn’t stop her from chewing him out.

The barkeep rests his chin upon the interior of his palm, a rather _naughty_ grin upon his face. “Oh, I’m sure you can find _other_ ways to make her scream as well.”

“ _Gross_.” Rush half-yells once more, and he really _is_ cringing at the thought now. He’s embarrassed, sure, but now that he’s much older, he considers her more of _sibling_ than anything else. “No thanks. You haven’t drunken yourself, have you? You’re acting drunk.” He states flatly, attempting to steer the conversation in another direction. Although, he knows that he’s not perhaps as… _smooth_ about it as he usually is. No, the alcohol is affecting him, he’s _sure_.

“I _wish_ , cutie. No drinking on the job, though! I’m only here to serve and please customers such as yourself—as I’m sure you know since you’re a regular.” A wink as the bartender sets the now-clean mug below to an unseen shelf before picking out another one to wipe.

Rush shakes his head, but stands now, albeit wobbly. “Well, _this_ regular has to retire for the night.”

The other looks remarkably shocked. “Already? But it’s hardly past _midnight_ , cutie.” He sounds a little put-out, to which Rush is surprised.

“Hey, you know I’ll come by again for sure—have a drink after work, okay? On me.” He flashes the other a grin and leaves enough coins to pay for himself and some.

In response, the barkeep swats at him. “You know I can get drinks for free, silly!”

“Yeah, well, take it anyways. God knows what I _won’t_ do with it.” Rush says airily, inwardly wishing things will stop _spinning_ for a moment, and the other nods in response, sweeping the coins to himself.

“You’re always so generous—keep safe out there, you hear me?”

A hand raises in acknowledgement as Rush finally turns to leave. At this time of day, the pub tends to be _extra_ rowdy but for some reason, there’s a shortage of customers.

 _I guess Conky’s scared off a few people, then_. He thinks dryly, but the rising presence of the Conqueror isn’t exactly one to be ignored. Attacking villages and cities left and right, all in an effort to create a scene—or _whatever_ he’s up to these days, Rush isn’t sure—, Athlum is _bound_ to be on high alert. From what he’s learned, this city is supposed to be the _decoy_ and _protector_ , at it’s simplest terms, for Celapaleis. Which _sucks_ , really, because Athlum, from what Rush can see, is as big and their defences are _far_ stronger than Celapaleis’. What’s stopping them from becoming independent?

… Then again, Rush can be interpreting things all wrong.

 _And that_ , he thinks wryly to himself, moving among the silent, dark streets of Athlum, _is why old Conky gets to do all the political stuff_.

He pauses when he gets to the base of the Valeria Heart.

Staring up at the mighty Remnant, he’s a little in _awe_ of it’s power and _age_. It’s been here for _centuries_ while in comparison, Rush is young and _ignorant_ , someone born under a couple of decades ago yet… he’s to speak for _all_ of the Remnants? It’s a task that daunts him--even after several years of knowing it--, and he wonders how he can possibly fulfil _all_ of their desires.

Stepping forward, he reaches up to the stone wall surrounding the Remnant and subsequently tries to get over it. _Tumbling_ over instead, he lands heavily in some bushes, a pained groan escaping him at the collision before he gets up, shaking his head to get rid of both the leaves and the bugs that have _most likely_ crawled into his hair. Standing slowly, he lifts his head only to pause upon realising that the Valeria Heart is _right there_ in front of him. Clearing his throat, he hastily stands, mouth parting slightly because he hasn’t _dared_ to get this close to this Remnant, mostly because everyone else was always around--especially that strange Yama that would absolutely not move from his spot--but now…

 _I am happy, young warden_.

Starting visibly, it takes a moment for Rush to realise that the Remnant is speaking to him. Or, at least, communicating what it _feels_. Remnants as a whole don’t exactly communicate the same way mitras do, as Rush has learned. Still, he has to _somehow_ interpret what they _are_ trying to say to him.

Maybe the other Remnant reads his confusion at it’s own feelings, for it sends waves of empathy and _peace_. It’s… _soothing_ , and he can feel himself go slightly lax at the sheer _magnitude_ at how _content_ this Remnant is.

“You’re alright here, huh?” He murmurs, and rests his hand upon the warm stone. Many times he’s come upon _angry_ Remnants, Remnants that want _out_ , that want to be _released_ and other times they’re alone and _afraid_ , seeking the comfort of another. There are hardly any that radiate as much peace—if at _all_ —as the Valeria Heart.

There are some Remnants, he’s noted, that are not exactly _born_ to sense as much as the others. One that doesn’t fail to escape his mind is the Treasure, both small and _big_ for it is a _scattered_ Remnant, one that exists all around the world in its small incarnations and Rush knows that it’s most basic desires only extend to wanting something stored within it, and for someone to take it out once more. A strange desire, but Rush supposes he can roll with it.

And then… there’s the Gae Bolg.

Kellendros as well—Rush has to wonder how David Nassau is even _managing_ juggling three Remnants at a time for while the Valeria Heart is content in nature, Kellendros is _wicked_. It is _sadistic_ and it’s screams are _palpable_ to Rush— _wantNEEDHUNGRY **GIVEMEMORE**_ —and he has to rub at his ears to try and _quell_ it. The Gae Bolg itself is silent and _watchful_ , and Rush isn’t too sure what _that_ one wants but…

Why is he even sensing their feelings at _all_ , anyways?

“A very avid fan of the Valeria Heart, I see.”

 _Ah, crap_.

Putting up his hands, he turns to meet the owner of a… well, _distinct_ Athlumian accent. Or, at least, he _thinks_ it’s Athlumian. He’s not really sure nowadays. Still, even as he’s attempting to think up a good explanation as to _why_ he’s casually within touching distance of the Valeria Heart, his jaw drops upon seeing… well, upon _seeing_ the other.

He’s not sure whether he’s simply star-struck or simply _admiring_ how _pretty_ the other is.

From what he can remember of the barkeeps’ description, the Marquis of Athlum wore two-toned panels, one blue and one red, and he has these _killer_ looks with tan skin and blonde hair…

Although the night is _heavy_ in it’s darkness, Rush can still make out the colours of that uniform under the lamplights and he’s a little _floored_ to say the least. What exactly is he even _doing_ out here in the first place?

“Uh, hey, there…” He says awkwardly and decides to actually go back _over_ the small stone wall that separates them right now, rather _ungracefully_ toppling over and he only _just_ manages to save himself by performing some strange _back_ hop, to which the newcomer steps back to allow him room with bemusement upon his face. Huffing, he finally straightens to face the other, and now that he’s _this_ much closer he really _can_ appreciate how _nice_ the male looked. It’s like he’s on a _godly_ tier of attractiveness, sorta like Roeas except a _guy_ version.  

Remembering that the Marquis has actually asked him a _question_ , he hastens to answer it. “You could say I’m a fan, heh.” And he is _technically_ telling the truth, for he _does_ admire the Valeria Heart, but perhaps in a different way than the others. “What’re you doing up so late?” He rests a hand on his hip.

“I cannot sleep, though it’s not unusual for me. However,” A small smile curves those gorgeous lips (though it is admittedly ruined by the _caution_ that is clear within stormy hues). “What might you be doing up?”

“Eh, I’m up at this time a lot myself. You come here often, then?” A cock of his brow, before he realises what he’s _said_ exactly and he’s about to try and take his words back _somehow_ because _flirting_ certainly isn’t on the agenda tonight but he’s interrupted by a loud snort from the other male. Pausing, Rush stares, surprised.

“Not many would dare to say that to me. I must say, talking to you is quite refreshing.” There’s now genuine smile on the Marquis’ features and Rush relaxes. Alright, so maybe he isn’t as stiff as he’s heard. That doesn’t mean he’s about to kowtow to him like it’s _expected_.

Besides, David’s his age, isn’t he?

Grinning, he steps forward and claps him on the shoulder. He feels a tension _ripple_ out beneath his palm (and Rush cannot exactly _blame_ him; he’s been told he’s far too forward for some people’s tastes) but David doesn’t move, merely looking at him in a mixture of curiosity and surprise. “I guess we should make it a habit to talk more often then, right, Dave?”

To his amazement, David doesn’t look too uncomfortable with the nickname. No, he seems far more _astonished_ than anything else but that’s quickly covered up as the Marquis returns the gesture, resting a hand upon Rush’s own. “It’s a plan.” He agrees warmly.

Suddenly, the Remnant is a little too cognizant of how close they are now. He’s been blocking it out before, but he’s achingly _aware_ of how much _possession_ Kellendros is practically _keening_ at him, the mental claws it’s wrapping around David’s very _soul_ and Rush has to wonder whether or not the other can actually _feel_ it. Either way, this is as good a time to leave than any.

Moving past David now, there’s a smile in his tone as he starts to leave. “I’ll catch you later then, Dave; we’ll meet here again, yeah?”

There is not even a swish of his garments to indicate that David has turned to watch him. “Of course.” His voice is soft in the air. “Perhaps when we do, you can tell me your name.”

Rush snickers to himself, but doesn’t answer. He’s almost out of hearing distance anyway.

Though, perhaps not far enough for him to be ignorant of the words that come next.

“… and why Kellendros is rather desperate for me to get away from you.”

* * *

 

“So how old are you anyway, Conky?”

There is a long-suffering sigh. “Thirty-six.”

“But I thought Remnants were immortal?”

“That is what the Academy believes, and they are correct to an extent.” The Conqueror stares in distaste at the greens on his plate before alternating to the wine at his side. “However, they have not yet encountered Mitran Remnants, so do not apply anything they say to us.”

“Well, I have _one_ thing they can probably learn.” Rush smirks at the way the other avoids one part of his plate like it’s the devil. He, too, is of the same mannerism. “Veges don’t really sit well with us, huh?”

“Meat is more than adequate for us. I would think the servants would have learned that by now.”

“You realise that we’re in an inn in the middle of nowhere, right? Which means no personally made meals for you, unless you wanna try threatening them into getting rid of all those greens for you.” Rush cocks a brow at the other and starts to laugh. “And you tell _me_ to ‘awaken’.”

There is a heavy glare directed towards Rush but it isn’t the first nor will it ever be the _last_ he’ll receive from the Conqueror. Heck, he’s a little surprised that he hasn’t given Rush That Look in a while when he calls him ‘Conky’.

“Which you are taking an insufferably long time to do.” The big man intones. “I am still considering killing you so as to be done with the trouble.”

“Oh, _relax_.” Rush waves a chicken drumstick in the other’s face, and he almost laughs _again_ at the way those blank eyes follow the meat. “I’m sure I’ll do the whole awakening thing when I’m ready. Marion’s Blessing isn’t something to shrug off easily, y’know?”

“And that is why,” The Conqueror interrupts, “I have decided to speed up the process of your awakening.”

There’s a sudden bout of nervousness that assaults Rush, and he pauses in the middle of chewing. “What’d’ya mean?”

“Wagram is conducting a few experiments with a certain child. I recall you referring to her as Irina.”

Rush feels his heart freeze. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel all that hungry anymore. “… What’s he doing with her?”

“He’s taking her to Dilmoor. She’s to manipulate the dormant Remnant there, and see if it will respond to her power.” The Conqueror looks to him when he doesn’t answer. “Do not tell me you still think of her as _family_.”

Immediately, Rush’s fist slams into the table, and patrons around them still at the loud noise. Emotions are _riling_ up in the young Remnant so _easily_ , and he finds it hard to _breathe_ suddenly. “She’s no sister of mine. The Sykes aren’t my family, so don’t even _mention_ that word in the same sentence as _any_ of them!” in his outburst, he’s stood, inhaling and exhaling _hard_ as he glares at the Conqueror. He’s hardly even aware of the people around him, slowly vacating their tables in worry for their own safety, casting furtive glances at _him_ mostly, but what he _does_ notice is the palpable viridian _aura_ around his being, his Remnant powers _hissing_ in the air at the sudden summon.

“Sit down.” There is a pleased atmosphere around the Conqueror, however brief but that doesn’t soften his command. Reluctantly, Rush sits, the vibrancy of his powers slowly fading once more. “As I was saying, she is to release the Rubber Soul, and if she is successful, then the next test will be the Schiavona within Blackdale.”

“So I’ll have to meet her eventually, huh?” Rush doesn’t know what to think about that. He can’t even think past his anger to _begin_ with.

The Conqueror nods in response.  “That is correct. Unfortunately, Marion’s Blessing is not a long-range power.” His tone turns slightly sarcastic.

Grumbling, Rush waves a hand. “Okay, okay, I get it.” A thought settles uncomfortably in his stomach, and it is not the first time it has done so. “What’s… what will I be like when awakened, anyways?”

A shrug in response. “Each warden’s awakening is unique. When we go to Elysion in a month’s time, I will show you where you were born.”

“There are others like us, then?”

“Not anymore.” He answers shortly. “The wardens’ births are spread throughout several decades. However, this is the first time there have been two within the same age. I imagine that I was born to help you achieve your duty, whatever the cost.”

“Woah—“ Rush half-stands, and almost knocks the entire _table_ over. At a glare from the Conqueror, he hastily sits down again but leans forward in his seat. “So that means _you_ have to listen to _me_?”

“When you awaken, perhaps.” The Conqueror’s gaze slide to the side as if in irritation. “For now, I advise you _not_ to try to command me.”

“How do you know I’m not awakened _now_?” It’s a question that’s been riding upon Rush’s mind ever since he’d been _told_ about his _real_ origins. Sure, he feels _strange_ sometimes, but there’s nothing indicating that he’s about to _awaken_ in any shape or form. “I mean, I can access some of my powers and I can sense Remnants as well--!”

“Not _all_ of it.” The Conqueror interjects, and his gaze slips to him once more. “The majority of your power and the memories you should have grown up with are crucial to your awakening, and yet they are _missing_.”

“So I should’ve been like you, huh?” There’s some deflation in Rush at the reminder, but he’s also angry at the manipulation done to him when he was a mere _infant_.

“Somewhat. I came into being knowing what I had to do and what I had to take care of. I existed knowing I had to help you. What I did not expect was for you to becompletely _useless_ when I came.” He shakes his head in remembered agitation. “I decided to launch my own plans regardless so they would not rely on the prowess you are expected to have.”

“So you wouldn’t have come for me at all then?” For some reason, there’s a hollow feeling in his chest at the thought, and he already knows what the other is going to say before he even _thinks_ it.

The Conqueror’s stare becomes hard. “’Family’ is a concept mankind has made for themselves. You would do well to discard it.”

Rush falls silent then, and wonders if it really _is_ just a Mitran thing.

_Stupid stupid stupid._

_Family doesn’t matter_. _You shouldn’t care about family. You shouldn’t care about even_ wanting _one at all_.

The Conqueror looks away then, and Rush is inwardly glad he doesn’t have to lie straight to his face.

Upon the ensuing quiet, it’s only _then_ that the younger warden looks around, confusion apparent upon his features. “Wait—where’d everyone go?”

“You scared them off.” The other remarks, and finally decides to take a large chunk off the meat in his hand. It’s a _little_ awkward, waiting for him to continue and Rush manages to distract himself with playing with the vegetables on his plate until he’s ready to speak again. “Do not go into Ghor any time soon. No doubt your little display earlier has everyone on high alert.”

“As if _you’re_ one to talk.” Rush replies, a little irked now. “What’s up with you attacking every village or city that comes on your radar?”

“Merely a distraction for the Lords.” The Conqueror says, and blank eyes come to rest upon him once more. “We would not want Wagram’s experiment to go awry. With the kidnapping of the daughter of one of the most famous families in the world, there’s no doubt it would cause uproar. Without the war that I have been nurturing, it would be nigh impossible for Wagram to continue as he pleases since every Lord would be on his back.”

“… Wow.” Rush says, a bit floored from the revelation. “So… so all that is just for me to…?”

“Bear in mind that this is not just about you.” The other interrupts before Rush can finish his thought, but Rush is admittedly _relieved_ to hear that; to think that so much unrest going on is just for the sole purpose of getting him to _awaken_ … he would rather die first. A thought that is, undoubtedly, rather _unwarden_ - _like_ , and so he keeps it to himself. “There is a certain artefact that the Sykes are keeping to themselves that I would like to have. Wagram is to require it before long, in exchange for Irina.”

“And what exactly does this artefact do?”

“It puts Remnants into a deep sleep, effectively turning them into Talismans. In other words, I can use it to unbind Remnants if need be.”

For a moment, Rush stares at him. He struggles to find _some_ way to communicate what he’s thinking. “Wait… so you guys don’t really need me at all, do you?”

“Not for now.” The Conqueror puts it bluntly, and Rush cannot help but visibly flinch. “You are currently useless unless you awaken. Until then, do not do anything foolish.”

“Right.” He replies quietly, and wonders at the sting at the back of his eyes. “Right, well, I guess I better disappear for a while then, huh?”

The other looks at him impassively and there is not an ounce of sympathy within such a gaze, nor does he deign to answer.

Unwilling to let another moment pass by with this small lump in his throat, Rush stands and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how rush grew up will be revealed in small hints so look out for those! thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

He makes good use of some of the abilities that the Conqueror has taught him, enough so to make him land once more in Athlum the same day a few hours before midnight. No doubt the other warden is planning to do the same, for Rush is cognizant that the march has stopped just before fully engaging with Ghor, the first major city that will be attacked.

All in all, Rush is sure that he’s more nervous about it than the Conqueror will ever be.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from visiting the local pub once again, and the Barkeep is more than happy to see him.

“Give me, like, maybe ten mugs of your strongest drink.” Rush says dryly the moment he enters. As expected, it’s empty like the night before and so he slides into his favourite stool without fail, purposely banging his forehead upon the wood hard.

Immediately, the other fusses over him. “You’re into that ‘like’ phase again, cutie?” He croons, but gently grasps and lifts Rush’s head so as to steady him and he’s truly grateful for the action. If not for the other’s presence, it’s likely he will have kept on banging his head upon the hard surface.

“Something like that.” Rush remarks dryly, and accepts the drink poured for him, downing it immediately. He finishes it within three gulps flat. Refilling the mug once more, the other gives him a dubious expression.

“If you drink too much, you’ll get sick.” He chides even as Rush is going for a _second_ helping already. A grin’s already sloppily making it’s way across youthful features, and he gestures the barkeep for more.

“Maybe. But then you’d be outta business.” A laugh is pulled from the other at this, but Rush has to _really_ try and look at him now for he really _is_ a lightweight, he can’t _deny_ that at all. “Say, what’s your name?” He strangely cannot recall whether he's asked this before.

“José, cutie.” He winks, seemingly undaunted by the question, but there’s a worried line pulling across his brow, though the cause is something else completely. “Anything else I can get for you before you drink yourself silly?”

“Not gonna ask me for my name back, huh?” Rush asks, though there’s a smirk curving his lips.

José cocks his head. “Only if you’re willing—you seemed like the mystery type, but should I be prodding?”

Rush considers. On one hand, he supposes he should be extra cautious with his identity. On the other hand, what’s the harm?

… He really shouldn’t jinx himself, should he?

“It’s Rush.” Alright, he hadn’t meant to lean in and _whisper_ but he supposes it’s his drunkenness that’s doing the acting for him. And he _may_ have voluntarily raised a forefinger vertically to his lips and made a hushing sound towards the other, to which José giggles at in pure amusement. He doesn’t give out his second name—people who don’t have one don’t necessarily have _families_ , after all.

He wonders what family _José_ has, but figures he’ll ask him at a later date.

 _One step at a time_. He tells himself, though what it is in regards to, he’s not entirely sure.

* * *

 

The next two hours are incredibly _blurry_.

It’s only up to the fifth drink he’s downed that he can remember up to, but the rest is wholly _forgotten_. He can recall a _lot_ of laughing and perhaps more than a few inappropriate touching that he would _not_ have done ordinarily. The other guy behind the bar—the assistant maybe? Rush isn’t too sure—had gotten involved at one point, and they even went together over to the corner where a noble had fallen asleep on the chair and pulled a prank. Even now, he can’t really _remember_ what they’d done to get the noble yelling obscenities at them and running out the pub altogether but it’d been _hilarious_ , he’s sure, especially if it involved a marker and a cup of warm water.

Still, the moment it hit around midnight he remembered, almost _immediately_ , that he had an appointment to keep. Saying farewell to the two behind the bar (and emptying the better part of his coin bag, he’s sure), he manages to stumble out of the pub, and is immediately buffeted with a wave of cold air. _Nausea_ roils in his stomach then, but he wholly ignores it and stands for a moment upon the stone ground, attempting to ground himself once more. Strangely, the cold completely got rid of the drunkenness that assaulted him before, but it doesn’t do the same wonders for the fact that he felt like puking up the entirety of his stomach.

Now, he walks up to the Valeria Heart, and is slightly disappointed to not see those shades of red and blue waiting for him.

“It’s a stupid hope anyway.” He mutters to himself, for it really _is_. Did he actually expect the Marquis of Athlum to be waiting for _him_ , a _stranger_? Even after one tiny little meeting? It’s ridiculous how much Rush truly _wished_ for David to show up, and now he feels a little foolish.

“Maybe I’m just…” A sigh escapes him, and he shakes his head. Lonely? Desperate? He hasn’t seen Roeas in _ages_ and he has no doubt that she’s locked in mortal combat somewhere down south as per the Conqueror’s orders along with Castanea. The Conqueror himself… well, Rush only saw him just a few hours ago, and even _that_ meeting hadn’t gone well, in his own opinion. Before that, he hadn’t seen the guy for the better part of a _year_. Apparently, the sentiment of missing him hadn’t been returned at all.

José is perhaps one of the few friends Rush really has, along with a chick called Nora, whom he’s seen wandering around the town and has met with—or rather _bumped into_ —a few times, and each time Rush found the need to drag her into a conversation. Mostly because… well, it certainly mustn’t be _easy_ living with a Remnant inside of her.

… And that’s it, really. Rush’s face twists into a grimace. He hadn’t really realized how much he’s been lacking in company—he’s _really_ taken it for granted, especially when growing up in Veyriel. Now there— _there_ he’s had the pleasure of being with a _lot_ of people, enjoying their company because in a backwater village like that, they _have_ to stick together. Since the Conqueror’s kicked him out to ‘gain some experience’, he has no idea what to do on the whole companionship front.

Without noticing it, he’d circled around to get closer to the Valeria Heart once more, seeking _some_ kind of comfort. He doesn’t necessarily want to climb over the short stone wall surrounding it again, just in case he gets _caught_ somehow, like last time. Still, that doesn’t deter the larger Remnant’s presence. _Already_ he can feel it’s effect, wrapping around him like a soothing balm and there are soft croons of _peace_ , of _safety_ and _security_ that Rush needs and he willingly moves into it, sighing as he sits on the ground.

“What do you think?” He asks the Valeria Heart aloud. “I mean, I know that I’m not… I’m not _entirely_ Mitra but I thought I’d be able to make a lotta connections ‘round here, whether or not they’re Remnants. But… do I want friendship _that_ much? Am I really that _desperate_ for… a family?” A loud exhale escapes him, and he lies back onto the cold stone, resting his arms behind his head as a cushion. It’s cold, but he finds that temperature tends not to affect him. “Maybe I… really _should_ abandon Mitran concepts. Like what old Conky said. It’d save me a fair bit of heartache, I reckon.” He gives a dry laugh, but starts at the prod that the Valeria Heart gives to him, a _reprimand_ of sorts, as if _disagreeing_ with what he’s saying—no, he’s _sure_ that’s what it’s saying to him.

Sitting up again, he looks to the Valeria Heart, stretching up _far_ above him and has to give a bemused expression towards it.

 _You’re not trying hard enough_. Or, at least, that’s what it _sounds_ like it’s saying. There’s disdain and encouragement rolled into one, and that’s the only thing he can really think of.

“You think so?” He asks aloud, deciding to cement his interpretation, but settles back to lie down once more, contemplating it’s words. Maybe the Valeria Heart is right—he really _isn’t_ trying hard enough. Should he put himself more out there? But then, that’d _really_ go against what the Conqueror is warning him about. If he ever got caught and/or detained, then he’s sure the guy wouldn’t even _bother_ trying to bust him out.

Still… is it worth the risk?

There’s a mischievous feeling from the Valeria Heart, and he has to laugh aloud.

“Well, whatever you say. Or feel.” A pause, before he gets up yet _again_ and decides to jump over the stone wall once more, pressing his palm flat against the smooth stone surface and feeling the pulsating warmth there. “Thank you.” He murmurs, and bows his head.

“You really are fond of the Valeria Heart, aren’t you?” Soft footsteps and Rush recognizes that voice immediately, even the _possessiveness_ that comes with the Remnant. Grinning to himself, he has to restrain from whooping at the other’s appearance despite the more palpable, _sour_ presence that came with it. He feels the Heart’s encouragement nonetheless (and even feels it batting _back_ Kellendros, which Rush is grateful for), and he clambers back over the stone wall once more, not relenting in his smile as he looks to David.

“It’s helped me a lot already.” He confesses, and cannot refrain from examining the other’s features closely. Is it just him, or does David look more exhausted than last time? “What’s up with you, though?” He cannot keep the worry out of his voice.

The other seems a little taken aback at such a question before he composes himself once more. “Meetings upon meetings.” He replies dryly. “I apologize if I am late at all—the last one took an hour more than it was supposed to.”

“Woah, I didn’t think you’d be _that_ busy. At least, not ‘till this time of night.” Rush leans forward slightly. “You ever heard of a thing called a ’vacation’?”

A laugh ensues from the Marquis, and the smile remains even as he shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Not for at least a year.”

Rush whistles. “You need to take a break, man. I know you love your city but you must be _super_ tired.” There’s a small wave of his arms so as to emphasis his concerns.

If anything, David seems to be more amused by Rush’s antics than taking the idea into consideration. “Perhaps. But I doubt I will have the opportunity to do so any time soon.” The smile fades, and his eyes becoming a little more fixated upon Rush. “Have you heard of the Sykes daughter’s kidnapping? And the Conqueror?”

 _Crap_.

Rush isn’t a good liar. He knows this _fully_ but he cannot entirely _run_ from this conversation. _This_ is what he gets for trying to befriend the Marquis of Athlum, he guesses.

From the side, he feels another wave of mischief from the Valeria Heart, and he has to restrain from casting a glare at it.

“Sorta.” He settles for a less dangerous option, a more _open-ended_ one. A hand rises to the back of his head, and he rubs it awkwardly, feeling his eyes avert from such an intense gaze _already_ despite the fact he hasn’t even _started_ lying yet. “What about it?”

To his relief, David starts to pace which breaks whatever remaining eye contact there was between them (however _one-sided_ it was). He decides to lift his vision once more, if only to watch how he moves. “The Conqueror’s army and Ghor’s own troops are locked in a stalemate. Currently, there are heavy debates on whether or not Nagapur should send reinforcements.”

Rush tries his best to follow. “Why are they even debating? Isn’t the Conqueror a threat to them too?”

A thin smile spreads across David’s lips now, and he finally stops. Thankfully, he directs his gaze to the Valeria Heart as he answers him. “Unfortunately, Duke Hermeien is rather stubborn. He believes that if Ghor delays the Conqueror enough, he’ll be able to build sufficient defences to withstand any attack the Conqueror makes. If he decides to aid the Duke of Ghor, he will have to send the majority of his troops to make a lasting dent in the enemy’s army. However, on the off-chance that things go wrong and Ghor falls, then Nagapur will be next, most likely, and since the troops that have been sent to defend Ghor are gone in that initial assault, Nagapur will be left mostly defenceless and they are liable to being taken if the Conqueror so chooses that to be his next move.”

 _I_ , Rush thinks with a staggeringly _large_ amount of relief, _am_ so _glad I’m not the Conqueror_. It sounds like _far_ too much work, and to be responsible for that amount of _people_ … Rush doesn’t think he’s entirely _ready_ for that yet. How does David even _manage_?

“What… what about Celapaleis? Or even you? Can’t you guys send troops?” He asks, and _really_ hopes he’s not sounding ignorant.

Thankfully, David doesn’t look irritated at his words. “Celapaleis is too far to send troops. The time they would take to get to Ghor would be long enough for the Conqueror to find out and launch his assault early. “ He lifts a hand and runs it through golden tresses, shaking the stress out. “As for myself… I would go, but I have been personally asked a favour by someone in high-standing. I would be a fool to decline. Yet, neither will I risk Athlum to the mercy of the Conqueror in my absence, so I would leave all my troops here.”

“A… personal favour?” Rush asks, oblivious to how _forward_ the request to _know_ may be but David does not seem to mind too much. He has a _feeling_ , but…

“Indeed.” David answers shortly, and pauses for a full moment, long enough for Rush to awkwardly wonder whether he’ll actually _tell_ him what this favour is. As he’s debating whether or not to excuse himself for the night, the Marquis finally continues, looking to Rush once more, and the Mitran Remnant finds he cannot avert his eyes this time. “Marina Sykes happens to be a good friend of one of my Generals, Emma Honeywell.” Rush’s throat tightens up inexplicably, and he can already _tell_ where this is going. He almost wishes he can disappear into the ground right about now.

David continues, oblivious to his inward distress. “She has personally asked for us to find her daughter Irina. It is a… rather _large_ responsibility, I must admit, for if I fail, then it means I fail Athlum.”

 _Of course_.

Rush is _incredibly_ grateful when David turns away from him, for he _really_ cannot help the sudden burst of _light_ that flares from his eyes, cognizant of this because of the sudden _power_ that flares up in response to his anger. Fists clench excruciatingly _hard_ and he has to force himself to breathe deeply and calmly so as to not lash out. It isn’t entirely _David’s_ fault, but he _is_ right there for Rush to yell obscenities at. However, Rush will _not_ let himself reduce to that, and so he painfully _forces_ himself to keep a peaceful façade, no matter how much he wishes to _rage_ at the fact that Irina, once _more_ , is taking the things he _enjoys_ from his life. As if their parents weren’t enough, but now _David_? A possible friend when Irina probably had _hundreds_ of them?

He can imagine, then, the lack of effort the Sykes went through to try and find _him_ when he went missing. But when _Irina_ goes missing, oh, they have to call the leader of a _city_ to do it for them. They decide to use their status and _resources_ to do it and did they even do that for _Rush_?

Some part of Rush is ashamed that he still even _bears_ this grudge. Despite everything, he still loves his parents with his very being, and to an extent, he may even love _Irina_. But right now… there’s this seething mass of _hatred_ for them, _stronger_ than whatever love lingers, and it’s hard to even look _past_ that to the reason that may lie beyond.

“Why are you telling me this?” Rush wonders aloud through numb lips, and he winces inwardly at how dead his tone currently sounds.

Apparently, David doesn’t notice, his gaze fixated upon the vast streak of stone extending to the clouds. He doesn’t say anything for a full moment, and Rush is starting to get used to these periods of silence. However, what the Marquis _does_ decide to say completely _floors_ him.

“I want you to come with me.”

It takes all of Rush’s willpower not to gape as David turns back to him once more, but even _that_ willpower isn’t enough to stop his jaw from dropping from sheer _shock_ at the unexpected offer. “W _-what?!_ ”

David looks vaguely amused at Rush’s reaction, but it quickly fades as seriousness takes his tongue once more. “You did not hear me incorrectly. I want you to join me.”

Already, Rush has _several_ ideas on the _flaws_ of that very notion. “But-But we’ve hardly even _known_ each other for more than a day!” His tone is _beyond_ incredulous. “Maybe like _less_ than an hour, actually.”

At this, David laughs. “On the contrary, we’ve now known each other for an hour and fifteen minutes.”

Rush has to gawk. _Again_. “That’s still _less than a day_.”

The other tilts his head slightly. “Are you not a mercenary?” At Rush’s prolonged, confused stare he has to chuckle. “I am the Marquis of Athlum. I know who comes in and out of my city, and I know every resident from the most elderly to the newborns. The newcomers are almost always mercenaries, looking to be hired at the Union.” He frowns then, reconsidering Rush now. “Unless… you travel here occasionally because you merely _feel_ like it?”

Rush feels strangely _defensive_ all of a sudden. It’s not like that’s… _bad_ , right? “So what if I do?” He asks, slightly miffed.

It’s David’s turn to look surprised. “But… there’s an increase in monster activity—not many people travel because they feel the _need_ to.”

Ah, crap. There goes the credibility in saying he can’t actually fight as an excuse _not_ to join him. “I… just like to wander?” He says lamely, rising a hand to the nape of his neck to rub at it awkwardly. It’s not exactly a _lie_.

“No matter.” David says, and he holds out his hand, a warm smile upon his features now. “Will you join me? I still do not know your name but… you have the experience, I can tell. I am willing to offer any amount of gold, if you’ll take it.”

Rush hesitates.

On one hand, it’ll be _good_ to make connections, to not be _alone_. Companionship is something he’s been looking for, after all, and he can _feel_ the Valeria Heart nudging him in approval of this train of thought. On the _other_ hand, however…

There are _far_ too many risks to be had. Firstly, he’ll be going _against_ the Conqueror, someone he should be _helping_. Secondly, he’s told Rush to stand down, to keep it on the down low so as to not be discovered and while it kills Rush to do that, he can see the sense in it. And thirdly… _thirdly_ …

No. He’ll not be helping Irina. He’ll be _damned_ before he ever does that.

The Valeria Heart wails it’s dismay in his mind, and the contentment is broken in both it and him for a moment. It seems to have affected David as well, for his smile begins to fade. As much as Rush wishes to bring it _back_ , every sense he possesses _screams_ at him to _leave now_ because he cannot _afford_ get any deeper in this than he already has.

“Sorry.” He mutters, averting his gaze down as he steps back. “I just… can’t.” Maybe in another life, he would have taken that offer, if it ever came down to it. Now, however, there’s far too much at stake, for himself _and especially_ the Conqueror. He curses himself as David nods, lowering his hand. He’s a good guy. Unfortunately, they’ll probably have to fight each other somewhere down the road, because if David’s getting involved with Irina, then it’s likely that Rush will have to step in at _some_ point.

“I understand.” David says with measured grace, and the smile upon his lips seems thinner now, less warm. “I apologize for springing that onto you so suddenly. I will take my leave now, if there’s nothing more to discuss.”

 _Discuss_. Apparently, David thought this was some kinda business deal and that they actually agreed to meet here so as to sort out something between them, not _just_ as friends. Or maybe Rush has lured him into thinking that way. _Or_ maybe David’s way too hurt to admit that…?

Rush forcibly shakes himself inwardly. _Now_ he’s just getting carried away. Who is he to assume anything about the Marquis?

Still, David’s walking away. David’s walking _away_ and there’s _nothing_ present upon Rush’s tongue to ask him to come back so maybe they can just _talk_ or _chat_ but he’s sure the other has some pressing matters to attend to, like _sleeping_ for instance because Rush is sure he’ll be heading out once more in a few hours to pursue Irina and…

The Valeria Heart _pushes_ him.

Stumbling slightly, Rush manages to speak through trembling lips, actually surprised he’s able to speak at _all_. “Hey, uh, Dave!” There’s relief blossoming in him when the other pauses and half-turns to listen. “Can… can we meet up here again later? I mean, when you’re done with your favour and all. I’d like to… talk with you some more, if that’s okay.” He says awkwardly, and his heart is beating so damn _fast_ that he has to hold his breath, hoping it isn’t _loud_ in the silence of the town square. When David doesn’t answer in a while, he starts to panic. _Already_ he’s lost a potential friend. It’s a sign that maybe he _shouldn’t_ pursue any companionship after this; maybe he should become a hermit and just live on his own until he _awakens_ or something--!

“I would like that.” David says finally, and Rush almost collapses in relief. “Perhaps within three days? I imagine I’ll be finished with my task by then.”

“Yeah!” Rush says, and feels embarrassed when he hears that his voice is just a little _higher_ than usual from the flood of emotion. Clearing his throat hurriedly, he nods his head despite the fact that David cannot see it. “Yeah, I’ll be here.” And maybe an incentive? A smirk curves his lips as he mentions it. “And if you’re here as well, then I’ll _definitely_ tell you my name.”

He can almost _feel_ the smile upon David’s face, and he wants to just _die_ from how much tension he’s wracked by from this. “Agreed.” The Marquis answers simply, and starts to walk off once more, a hand waving idly back. “I will see you in a few days’ time then.”

When David finally disappears, Rush casually just collapses in a heap to the ground. Peeking up at the Valeria Heart, he both wants to thank _and_ curse it.

As if in response, the Remnant merely tingles with glee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before anyone starts reading this chapter--AND if you've already read the entire work BEFORE I've posted this update--, PLEASE READ the second and third chapter again!!!! i've recently had a major revelation with this story regarding the plot so i've had to do some revising (that's what i get for improvising my stories at first omfg) so if you've already read those chapters, i advise reading it again! they're small changes, but they kinda hint towards it! all the same, thanks for reading and i hope y'all enjoy!

For the next few days, Rush does absolutely _nothing_ towards the twilight hours of the day.

The first two nights are spent drinking himself senseless in the pub until the early hours of the morning. _Not_ so ace, considering he’s now being a complete _bum_. He can’t exactly recall the last time he’s had a bath, and he must smell _really_ bad if José actually couldn’t _bear_ speaking to him on the second night. He decides to leave the pub early and maybe rent a room at the local inn so as to get a _proper_ cleaning.

What he _doesn’t_ expect to see—or rather, _who_ —is…

“Roeas?!” He’s halfway through pulling his top off before he even _realises_ the woman is there, standing beside the doorway like some _creeper_ and he has half a mind to tell her that before she raises a finger to her lips. Quieting down, he moves to lock the door before reluctantly putting his shirt back on and flopping on the bed.

“I hope you do not treat _every_ woman who enters your room this way.” She begins dryly, and moves over to sit next to him, crossing her legs and Rush is incredibly _aware_ of how _much_ skin she’s currently revealing with her clothing. While he’s gotten used to it, he’s still not entirely _comfortable_ sitting near her or being anywhere _near_ her while she’s in _that_ outfit. Looking down her nose at him--which is wrinkling rather _violently_ now--she continues with rising disgust. “Then again, I imagine no one will _want_ to enter considering how _atrocious_ you smell.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rush waves her off with a hand before getting up once more, noting in amusement when she leans back so as to escape whatever stench he’s putting off. “Lemme get washed first, alright? Then we can talk ‘bout why the heck you’re even here.”

Roeas snorts at this, but allows him to do as he wants, deciding to settle on the bed with ease as he quickly shuts himself in the adjacent bathroom. Not wanting to take _too_ long, he quickly strips and bathes, _finally_ emerging from the room to find Roeas has completely disappeared. For a moment, he stands in complete confusion because she can’t have possibly decided to _ditch_ him right after seeing him? He’ll admit that he’s _really_ missed her, despite her unexpected presence and there’s a sinking feeling in his gut at the thought that maybe she’s left once more.

“Afraid, boy?” Almost _immediately_ , Rush stumbles in shock as she appears right before him, smirking with a hand on her hip. Losing his balance from the sheer _surprise_ garnered from her trick, he falls back on his rear, a yelp accompanying his fall. As he regains his senses, it takes a moment for him to realise she is _laughing_ at him—albeit in that _imperious_ way she’s adopted—and another moment to realise that she’s offering out her hand for him to take.

Slowly starting to grin, he clasps her hand and she hauls him up with more strength than he expects and he’s almost sent careening down to the ground again before she steadies him with a hard hand to his chest. There’s a moment’s pause before Rush decides to just _go_ for the desire twinkling in the back of his head—Roeas can murder him later.

Wrapping his arms fully around the woman, he buries his face into her shoulder and smells sweat and the acrid burn of Mystic Arts, the telltale signs of _battle_ but he doesn’t care. He really _has_ missed her and he’s not ashamed to show that. To his surprise, Roeas doesn’t throw him off straight away, but instead he feels the pressure of her hand on his head and he’s sorely _content_ at that, glad he finally has contact with a childhood _friend_ , of sorts.

Just when he thinks she’ll actually let them stay like this, she moves away, straightening her one bang in feigned contempt. “Do not mention that to anyone, boy.” She says in disdain, and Rush has to snicker in response.

“Aw, c’mon, I can’t be the only one to miss everyone! Even old Conky was all… stiff and I haven’t seen him _way_ longer than you and Castanea—“ At the reminder, he looks around before realising that the big guy probably wouldn’t be able to _fit_ in this small room. “Where is he, anyway? Aren’t you guys joined at the hip?” Almost _literally_ maybe, because he _always_ sees them together and he’s teased Castanea on the side about liking Roeas to which he mostly grunts back in response, obviously not amused at the prospect. Still, Rush can’t really think of anyone else who’d be perfect for Roeas.

Or maybe, he’s just entertaining these types of notions too much.

 _You would do well to cast aside those Mitran concepts_ —

Shucks.

“He is marching to Elysion, posing as the Conqueror.” She responds, seemingly expecting such a question; Rush himself has no idea of _that_ part of the plan—this is ultimately news to him, but he can see _why_ Castanea can masquerade as the Conqueror. Still, weren’t they about to assault Ghor? Or is that another plan Rush isn’t allowed to know about? He decides not to even say anything, certain he'll just get no answers anyway. Roeas returns to her post by the bed, sitting down once more and crossing her legs. Similarly, Rush decides to just plop down on the chair by the entrance, guessing that there’s gonna be _some_ kind of talk coming now.

“Rush." Roeas starts slow, and he feels like he's in some sorta   _therapy_ session. "The Conqueror told me to speak to you.”

 _Here it comes._ He cannot help a sour expression.

“He’s aware of your… daily visits to Athlum, and he certainly doesn’t care whether you drink your face off each night.” She says this with such a brisk tone, and Rush has a feeling as to where this is going. “However, it’s come to his attention that you’ve begun… fraternizing with the Marquis.”

Bingo.

“Rush.” She leans forward in her makeshift seat, eyes intent upon his own and he squirms uncomfortably. “What are you intending to do with such a relationship?”

And _that_ isn’t something he expects. “W-what?” What exactly are they thinking?

“I mean,” A drawl enters her tone now. “Are you intending to use your relations with the Marquis to your advantage? Are you intending to find out certain information to use against them in the future?” A cock of her head, but at Rush’s prolonged, _shocked_ silence, her lips thin, seraphic features now hardening. “Surely you aren’t trying to make _friends_.” There’s a dry twitch to her mouth now. “You _know_ that is not your duty.”

“So what if I am?” He says defensively, crossing his arms. Is it really that _bad_? “So what if every little thing I do isn’t actually _related_ to my duty--!”

Suddenly, there is keen steel at his throat.

Roeas is in front of him now, standing to the side of him and he’s unsure whether or not she actually teleported to get there. The fact remains, however, that she’s actually _holding a knife_ to his _throat_ and he has honestly no _idea_ how to react. On one hand, he’s certain she won’t actually _kill_ him but on the other…

Well, _anything_ for the _Conqueror_.

His teeth clench together, but he makes no move to defend himself. He absolutely _refuses_ to hurt her, even if she wants to hurt him or even _kill_ him. Maybe it’s a little foolish of him, but perhaps they’ll never understand how much he actually considers them _all_ as a family.

“My Lord Conqueror instructed me to kill you should you ever say anything along those lines.” She murmurs into his ear, and he has to shudder at the _promise_ within them, _not at all_ a mere threat. She intends to go through with such a command, and he _tenses_ , waiting for _some_ impact before _blood_ begins spilling across the floor and _really_ , he _knows_ he should have expected this, knows that the Conqueror would have _eventually_ gotten sick of him but to do so in _this_ kinda matter, it isn’t exactly _nice_ , **really** —!

Roeas slips her knife away once more.

She steps back, and there is a haughty smirk upon her lips as Rush lets out a loud, harsh gasp, a hand automatically reaching up to his throat to feel for any wound. Shaking her head, there’s disdain _clear_ within her tone. “Wrong move, boy. You’re to fight for your life, not give up at a moment’s notice.”

“But… but I—“ Ah, crap, he _already_ feels a slight sheen prickling at his eyes and he blinks rapidly so as to calm himself. No wonder he hasn’t been put on the field yet, despite how much he actually _wants_ to be.

“Disregard any of our concepts of love. Disregard any and _all_ thoughts and desires for family, for a place to _belong_.” Roeas tells him coldly now, and she turns away from him. “You are not a Mitra, you are a Remnant. You have to _awaken_.”

Suddenly, there’s a flare of _anger_ at those words and he gets up, arms furiously gesturing as if to emphasize his points. “But _that’s not me_! I _haven’t_ awakened yet, I feel—I _want_ a family. I want people to lean on, I’m _just like a Mitra_ , whether you guys like it or not! I can’t get rid of it—I don’t know _how_ to!” The frustration is steadily taking over his _mind_ and as much as he wants to live up to their standards of being some kind of ultimate _warden_ he really _can’t_. “All my life—all the years spent with you guys are the _best_ I’ve ever had. I didn’t want war; I didn’t _want_ to grow into my duty— _whatever_ that was! I was _happy_. Why did that have to change?!” Maybe it’s a tantrum he’s kept within for so _long_ but it felt _good_ to let it out, even if it isn’t at the _right_ person but at least _she’ll_ be able to understand, right?!

For a moment, he expects Roeas to slap him. Actually, he expects her to punch him then just _stab_ him like originally intended. What she does _instead_ , however, surprises him.

She stares at him for a long while, enough to make him fidget for he cannot even _begin_ to place her expression.  Lips part, and she looks as if she’s about to say something but she pauses _again_ and he has to wonder what to _do_ now, unwilling to interrupt whatever train of thought she’s on.

When she finally moves, she takes his hand, holding it in both of her own. Kneeling before Rush, there’s now a pensive frown upon her features, and she looks down at his palm, studying it with the intensity of a soldier before a war plan. “You do not remember, then, truly.” She says plainly. Rush is half-relieved that she speaks at _all_ but it’s ever so vague that he almost snaps at her.

“What--?” He begins, exasperated, but she quiets him with a piercing look.

“You’re scared.” She’s as vague as _ever_ but there’s a strange _chord_ struck inside him, one that _resonates_ despite being so _weak_ and—it _fades_ not a moment later. Confusion blossoms within him, but she doesn’t give him an answer. Standing, she lets go of his hand before moving away once more.

“I will tell the Conqueror that you are not well.” She says smoothly, and reaches for her helmet, set previous unnoticed on the bedside table. It hasn’t really _registered_ with him at all but she had her helmet off the whole time. Maybe he’s just way too used to seeing her without one at all. “When he appears again, do not be empty-handed.”

“What do you mea--?” He breaks off mid-sentence, already half-reaching out for her but she’s gone within an _instant_ , her teleportation rather _handy_ in this case. Groaning to himself, he flops onto the bed, rolling to stuff his face into the pillow.

\--And he _screams_.

Ultimately, it’s muffled but he repeatedly punches the mattress on either side of his head with his fists, even going so far as to awkwardly kick at the bed as well. He can’t _help_ it—he doesn’t know what to do or even _say_  in this kinda situation. The one person he’ll ever _want_ to vent to just teleported right _out_ of his room and if he chose to go to anyone else, any other _friend_ , it’ll only be incredibly _risky_. No, the only _real_ option is to try and just… _deal_ with it. He’s not sure how he’ll be able to, considering the need to blurt all his troubles out, to seek comfort and _guidance_ somehow but—

But…

In the end, he just lies there. He doesn’t even have the energy to scream anymore.

_Just what the hell am I supposed to do?!_

* * *

 

“If you could rename yourself, what would it be?” The query put forth to José is another of _many_ for Rush is currently within a very _light_ drunken stupor on this third night, if he’s to say so himself. Frustration still burns at his veins, coils _sickeningly_ within his belly and he cannot help unleashing all his worries upon the Barkeep. While he presents only hypothetical situations to him, he has a feeling he’s a little _too_ suggestive with his words, and so he’s decided to settle with a less _obvious_ question.

José himself, _bless him_ , hasn’t seemed to mind the various questions directed to him, and instead only takes them calmly, talking through them with Rush as if he really is in the situation himself. Some answers are vague, some of them not entirely helpful (but it is not _José’s_ fault, for some queries are bereft of the necessary information to produce a worthwhile reply), but others… others make Rush _really_ think. To the side, the assistant listens avidly with awe upon his face.

“Depends on how I’m feeling, cutie.” José smiles at him as he answers Rush’s latest question, and is cleaning the mugs behind the bar, as always. “Sometimes I feel like I want to be unique and have attention, so the names I’d want to adopt would be unique. Like… Wyvern.”

Rush cannot help a snort at that. “Naming yourself after a monster, huh?”

“You’ve never seen someone else have the same name, right?” José laughs, but continues. “Other times, I might want to blend in with the crowd, so I could go for… Sam.”

“Wow.” Rush snickers. “You’re not kidding about the generic name thing.” Still, he appreciates the other’s answer—he has a feeling José has tailored it to the way that Rush wants to hear it: reliant upon his own situation, that he’s been cluing the other in on this whole time. Oh, he is _definitely_ gonna set José up with David— _somehow_ , at least. Or just some other nice guy. Rush has _gotta_ pay him back one of these days, and not just in money.

When he’s ready to leave for the night, José stops him, a hand wrapping around his wrist gently. “Rush.” He begins, and the Remnant stops to listen, already knowing that the other is serious for he has _always_ referred to him as ‘cutie’ (as he does _other_ men, he’s sure). Still, he’s surprised at the words that come next. “Whatever trouble you’re in, just make sure you come back safe and sound. I’ve missed you, cutie.” There is obvious worry in his tone, and Rush has a sudden epiphany—why’s he complaining about having a family and friends so much when the Warrior’s Honour is pretty much his home? With friends around, to boot?

… Is he selfish enough to want more?

And to think, he’s meeting up with the Marquis of Athlum—someone that José seriously _likes_ —behind his back. What kinda friend even _is_ he?

_An unworthy one._

His mood sours.

“Hey,” He manages a smile, and squeezes the other’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll be back before you know it!” He winks like the Barkeep always has with him. Though, there is _one_ thing that’s bothering him. José says he misses him, but it’s only been a _day_ , right?

Still, José _seems_ to be assured at his words, and subsequently lets go before saying farewell to him.

Heading out into the night once more, Rush lets the cool air of sobriety wash over him; less effective than the _last_ two nights since he hasn’t drunken as much as he normally does. Still, he wonders if he should probably halt such a habit—he knows it’s _bad_ for the health but… he hasn’t exactly been showing any _horrible_ symptoms.

 _Besides_ , Rush stretches his arms into the air, yawning as he does so, _wardens are meant to have better bodies than the regular Mitra_.

On that thought, he realises he hasn’t exactly slept in an entire month. And the last time he ate was with the Conqueror—but even _before_ then he hadn’t had any food for _weeks_ on end. Which is strange, because Nora had to eat twice as much as the normal Mitra to stay alive, right? But then, she’s been _forcibly_ stuffed with a Remnant. Rush can’t imagine the strain on _her_ body, especially when _he_ ’s the one who was actually _born_ a Mitra-Remnant.

 _Then again_ , can he even be _considered_ a Mitra if all wardens are meant to be born like this? Or maybe they’re just some sorta weird _new_ race entirely.

“Argh--!” He rakes his fingers through his hair repeatedly in frustration. Maybe he shouldn’t even _try_ thinking about this without at least consulting the Conqueror.

Stopping at the Valeria Heart once more, it warmly greets him, coiling assurances and contentment around him. Feeling relaxed _already_ , he steps forward further, unsurprised to not see David here. Most likely he’s running late again, and Rush doesn’t exactly blame him. After all, he imagines it’ll take a _lot_ of hard work to wrest… _her_ from… from…

He almost wants to bang his face against the wall.

Actually—he decides to. Moving closer to the stone fence surrounding the Valeria Heart, he starts to bow his head as if to smack it against the surface but instead manages to take a step too _far_ and practically _slam_ the front of his foot into the strong material. Yelping at the sudden pain, he hops on the spot for a second before finally deciding to just sit on the ground again, admitting defeat.

At the curiosity emanating from the Valeria Heart, he starts to explain aloud but stops himself. _Anyone_ can listen in, he realises that now, and so restricts it to…somehow sending his _feelings_ to the Remnant, if that’s even _possible_. He can probably just _think_ to the larger Remnant, but from what he’s felt, that isn’t exactly how they _operate_.

He imagines David first and a small party of soldiers behind him getting ready to fight, all prepared to lay down their lives for a… little girl. He cannot help keeping the jealousy out of his mind, and the Valeria Heart immediately attempts to sooth it away. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well as the Remnant has probably hoped, but Rush continues anyways. He imagines a fierce sorcerer behind the little girl, clothed in a white robe with one eye covered and he _really_ tries to communicate how _powerful_ he is, even trying to insert some fabricated fear behind such a figure.

The Valeria Heart seems to get it. In fact, it seems to be getting it a little _too_ well because there’s a sudden _flare_ of power _rippling_ throughout it’s stone structure, and Rush has to stumble back a little when there’s the telltale signs of it beginning to _teleport_ —

“Wait, wait!!” Rush holds out his hands, and breathes a massive sigh of relief when the Heart calms to listen. “That guy—“ He shakes his head and continues within his own mind. He tries to communicate, through images and feelings how the white-robed mage is his _friend_ , a somewhat _father_ figure to him and there’s confusion in response, for _isn’t he the enemy? isn’t he trying to harm what’s under_ my _protection?_  but Rush is hasty in his explanation, trying to relay that _no no! he’s just helping me in a very strange way but doesn’t know that david is a good guy as well!_ and the Valeria Heart falls silent. There’s a sudden lack of contentment from the Remnant, and Rush stands there nervously, wondering what exactly the verdict will be.

For a moment, Rush wonders whether the Remnant has decided to give him the cold shoulder. It’s not something he _expects_ from a large chuck of stone in the ground, but he wouldn’t put it past it.

_Figure… out what… side… you are… on._

The words come, stilted and _strange_ and whispered like a _caress_ upon his ear yet a _screech_ upon a river at the same _time_ and Rush starts _visibly_ , looking around before his gaze settles once more upon the Remnant. Mouth parting slightly on surprise, he doesn’t have to voice his question for it to be answered by his own guess.

The Valeria Heart actually _spoke_ to him.

Rush stares at the Remnant for a long minute; for one, Remnants tend _not_ to communicate in the same way mankind does. And if they try to, it’s jumbled and _strange_ , he’s noticed. But the Heart… the Heart actually _managed_ to—

Well, he shouldn’t be _too_ surprised, considering it’s been stuck here for who knows _how_ long, settled among all races alike and listening to their fear, worries, hopes and _dreams_. He has no idea how long this Remnant has existed, but to even manage _that_ … is incredible.

Still, what the other has said does not leave Rush’s mind, and he expects it to stay there for quite a _long_ time. His lips part, and he wonders what to _say_ exactly in response to that, because he _knows_ what side he’s on, he knows what he has to do and—

… Does he?

Features fall and lift repeatedly, and he’s not sure what to even _feel_. As if sensing the inner turmoil it’s words has brought back, the contentment coils around him once more, but it doesn’t reach through to his soul, not _really_.

Expelling a heavy breath from his lips, eyes stare blankly at the ground for he’s truly _stuck_ , unsure of where to _go_ in these crossroads and the only reason he wants to awaken is to actually _know_ what to do, to be _guided_ because he doesn’t know what he _should_ be doing, doesn’t know what’s right for _anyone_. He’s unsure and he doesn’t—

“I don’t… know what to _do_.” He chokes out then, feels the heat gather among his eyes for there is so much _stress_ over this, so much _anxiety_ because what if he does something wrong? What if he doesn’t do something _right_? People will _hate_ him no matter what decision he makes, he’s _sure_ but what will be the decision that will help them _all_ , not _just_ Remnants?

He imagines the Conqueror’s face, the disapproval and _disdain_ upon it once he learns that Rush doesn’t care _just_ for Remnants, he wants the others races to live and prosper _among_ them. He wants things to change, for his kind to not be seen as _just_ tools but… but something to live _with_. He doesn’t want the other races to look at Remnants as mere objects because _they_ have feelings as well, he’s _proof_ of it.

_What side are you on?_

He honestly doesn’t know anymore.

“Are you here for Lord David?”

He whirls around almost immediately at the voice, hoping to whatever entity is out there that they hadn’t heard his words but all thoughts of _that_ fly out the window upon noting the newcomer.

Stern, hardened eyes greet him, and he notices the grey hair, the warrior’s _armour_ and tunic and he can _feel_ the Valeria Heart absolutely _keen_ with eagerness, with _excitement_ upon seeing this particular person. “Who’re you?” He asks uncertainly.

“I am Emma Honeywell, one of the Four Generals of Athlum.” She responds shortly. “Are you here for Lord David or not?”

Well, obviously she isn’t much of a small talker. Nonetheless, Rush _is_ wondering where his late companion has gotten to, and why he hasn’t arrived yet _at all_ and instead decided to send _this_ lady—

He starts forward suddenly, a cold, gut-wrenching _fear_ coiling around his heart. The other moves to lay her hand upon her hilt, but he doesn’t pay attention to that. “Is he hurt?!” He demands immediately, worry clear in both his tone and expression. “Is that why he couldn’t come himself?” Oh, _crap_. If David is hurt, then Rush is _sure_ he’s to blame because if he’d only _taken_ the Marquis’ offer, then maybe he won’t have gotten _wounded_ at all by—!

“Calm yourself.” Emma commands, and Rush finds himself stepping back at such words, the _power_ in her voice because he certainly hadn’t _expected_ it. “The young Lord is fine. There are a few wounds here and there, but it is nothing that the castle healers cannot take care of. However, since Pagus—“ She speaks as if Rush is supposed to _know_ who that is. “—has specifically confined Lord David to bed, he’s instructed me to tell you of his condition, and to…” There is obvious reluctance and annoyance in her tone now. “… to relay his most sincere apologies.”

“Wow.” He’s only really able to say just _that_ , conflicted on what he _should_ be saying, because does she expect for him to relay a message back? “I-I mean that’s cool! Well, it’s _not_ cool that Dave’s all bedridden, but I can wait for him another night! If he’s not, y’know, busy or something—“ He begins to ramble, _nervous_ now because he is _not_ liking the way the other’s aura steadily grows colder with each second that passes. Or rather, with each _word_ that slips out of his lips.

And, suddenly, she’s right _there_ , the cold steel of her sword pressing against his throat and he gulps, for there is a _heck_ of a lot of murderous intent within her gaze, as _ferocious_ as it is now. “Have you no _manners_ , whelp?! That is the _Marquis of Athlum_ you are speaking about!”

Immediately, he holds up his hands, _frightened_ by the display because on the whole, this woman really _is_ terrifying. “Alright! Alright! I’m sorry! _Jeez_ , what’s your problem, old lady?!”

She really looks ready to _murder_ him now.

“You are lucky you are of _some_ importance to Lord David or else I would _smack_ you into next week!” She lets go of him, _harshly_ at that and the force is enough to send him tumbling to the ground. Well, _today_ seems to be the day for him to be beaten up. Or rather, this entire _week_ so far. Roeas, yesterday had no trouble putting a knife to his throat, as well as this lady. Rush wonders who the _next_ person will be.

“Okay! I’m _sorry_ , alright?” He repeats now, exasperated. “Can I go now?”

“Go?” Emma narrows her eyes, and she looks ready to grab him and just chuck him over a _bridge_ or something. “Do you not wish to see him? After making him _wait_ for you over and over again, you have the audacity to leave _just like that_?”

_What?_

Before he can ask, however, she’s already shaking her head and beginning to depart. “Spare my Lord the time; he does not have the energy to be _chasing_ you. If you do not care to show up the nights that he has waited _and_ the nights he has sent messengers to _pine_ for your absence, then be gone. You are a poison to him, one that I would _gratefully_ relieve him of if he gave me the permission.” With that lovely farewell, she stalks off gracefully into the night.

He looks to the Valeria Heart, but it gives no answer.

Feeling anxiety clawing up inside of him once more, he moves quickly back to the pub, a burning question in his mind for there’s something _nagging_ at him, something demanding for him to _know_ and—

Bursting into the pub again, José looks up in alarm at the sudden noise before relaxing only marginally upon recognizing the visitor. Within a few steps, Rush is before him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Are you alright, cutie?” There is concern within the other’s voice, but Rush cannot muster a properly reply. Instead, he goes straight to the problem at hand, the query that is _burning_ at the roof of his mouth.

“B-before tonight… how long had it been since I’d visited?” He has trouble getting the words out, _afraid_ of the answer. He’s not sure what to expect, and he doesn’t even know whether he’s even _ready_ for it yet—

José looks surprised at the sudden question, but answers it hesitantly nonetheless.

“It’d been three weeks… is there something wrong, Rush?”

“ _Three_ …?” His voice is choked, and the Remnant is positively _floored_ at this information. It’s only been—it’s only been a _day_ right? He only _remembers_ a day so—so that _can’t_ be true. He realises he’s breathing a little faster now, and José is moving around the bar so as to reach him.

Only _just_ managing to compose himself, he shakes his head, a shaky smile curving his lips. A hand held out so as to make the other stop, he begins moving for the entrance once more. “Sorry—sorry about this, José. I just… needed some confirmation, is all.” He reassures, but the other doesn’t buy it, continuing to move forward.

“Sweetie, talk to me—“ There is a placating tone used, and Rush cannot take it. He doesn’t know _what’s_ happened exactly, but he doesn’t want to involve the other in this _at all_. Turning, he busts out the door once more and flees into the night, using _whatever_ powers there are at his disposal to just _disappear_ because there is _no way_ that three weeks of his life has been erased _just like that_.

No _wonder_ Emma hadn’t looked impressed, had even looked helplessly _frustrated_ ; no wonder Castanea is _already_ at Elysion because Rush knows the _Congress_ meeting is coming up, and the Conqueror is bound to do _something_ there. And… and _Roeas_. What exactly has he _forgotten_ all of a sudden?

He doesn’t know where they all are now, but he has to have _some_ answers. And the only person that can really _give_ him that, is…

He teeters on the outskirts of Athlum, glancing between the Ivory Peaks that lay ahead, and the outline of the Athlumian castle in the distance. To go and see him _now_ or…?

_To hell with it._

Turning fully, there’s a flash of _darkness_ and he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realise that the first few chapters consist of mostly conversations, but don't worry! i will get to the action pretty soon! thanks to the people who have left kudos!! i really appreciate it! ;D


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Rush tiptoes around in the Marquis’ room, he certainly doesn’t expect the feel of sharp metal against his throat for the _third_ time in a row.

But then, he doesn’t expect the utterance of pure shock afterwards.

“ _Rush_?”

_How does he know my **name**?!_

“What?” He has to respond, _stupidly_ in his own opinion but David releases his iron grip upon Rush’s shoulders, standing back just before the bed from where Rush really _hadn’t_ heard him rise from. Either that, or David was actually _waiting_ for a surprise visitor. In both cases, the Marquis is pretty damn _fast_. He notices that the other hasn’t let go of his sword, however.

He wants to ask how the other knows his name, but decides to zip his lips. After all, his missing memories aren’t exactly _accessible_ , so maybe they’ve met during that mind blank. Instead, he does the next best thing, and grasps the other’s shoulders in his hands. Seeing the Marquis stiffen—even start to lift the _sword_ again—,Rush feels a little _wounded_. All the same, he supposes he should have _expected_ it.

“Dave—“ He begins, and he feels helpless frustration rise in him when the other averts his gaze, as if bored and exasperated at the same time. “Dave, first off, I’m _really_ sorry. I don’t know how but I lost track of time and things just _happened_ —“ _Without_ him knowing, somehow, but he’s sure the other doesn’t exactly wish to know about that. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for me. I just—I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you!”

For a moment, there’s silence from David. Then—as Rush fears, he shrugs out of his grip, stepping back with a certain _coldness_ around his being.

“First off, you can tell me how exactly you got into my room without alerting any of the guards _and_ myself.” David says calmly and _coolly_ ; there is no hint of alarm nor fear within his features and he is completely _composed_ despite the oddity of Rush being here _at all_. Although, he has to inwardly contest that first query, because it seemed like David was _pretty_ damn alert to him. “Secondly, why are you not inquiring as to _how_ I know your name? And thirdly—“ He appraises Rush once. “Where exactly have you _been_ these last few weeks?”

Rush, admittedly, freezes at the _second_ question. He expects the other two but _that_ one— _that_ one throws him off guard. He’s under the impression that David has learnt it _from_ him, perhaps from one of the meetings that he doesn’t even _remember_ but if it turns out that there really _hasn’t_ been any meetings then…

“You talk to yourself often.” David notes aloud, and Rush looks at him, surprised. _Has_ he been doing that? As if the Marquis has heard his inner monologue, he answers plainly. “You mutter under your breath. I cannot quite catch it sometimes.”

Rush doesn’t know what to say to that exactly. To think he’s been saying a few thoughts aloud— _embarrassing_ , but it isn’t what he’s come here to discuss. Though, he worries what he may have said and, in particular, what David may have _heard_. Still, he notes the weariness hanging around David, previously unnoticed in his own haste to apologise and make the other _see_ how remorseful he is about all this. Feeling guilty once _again_ he speaks.

“Maybe… maybe we should speak another time?” He asks hesitantly. “I just interrupted your beauty sleep, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Dave, I—“ _Back_ to the apologies again, and he has to stop when the other holds up a hand. Silencing himself, he swallows harshly when David takes a step forward, his sword clutched tightly in one hand.

“I worried,” David starts, and his voice is quiet. “that you would not come back. I thought _I_ would not be able to make the appointment—the foe that I faced three weeks prior was far more challenging than I had expected. He got away with Irina, if you were wondering.” He adds bitterly, and turns to move towards the large window. Rush doesn’t even have the heart to feel jealous at the mention of his past sister, and wonders whether the other blames _him_ for the defeat.

David continues: “And then, you really _hadn’t_ come back. I waited when I could, I even sent out _servants_ to wait for me when I could not.” Guilt rises once more within Rush, and he’s at a loss of how to make it up to the other, if he’s putting it _this_ way. How can he take back the days he’s already lost? David laughs then, but it is dry. “And then I wondered to myself _why_ I was trying so hard to meet you again. You, who I’ve known for _less_ than an hour and a half now.”

Rush decides to go for _some_ levity; there’s not much else to lose now, right? “On the contrary,” he starts, and there’s a grin curving his lips at the reminder. “I think we’ve known each other for at _least_ two hours.”

For a moment, David doesn’t respond, and Rush starts to feel _really_ awkward then, wondering whether he should bail now just to save himself the embarrassment but then he realises that the Marquis is _smiling_ , half-turning towards Rush and even cracking a _genuine_ laugh this time. Rush, admittedly, quite _likes_ that.

Still, it does not take long for sobriety to cover David once more like a cloak. He lifts a hand, running it through his hair and Rush steps forward slightly because the other looks _really_ distressed now and he’s at a loss as to how he can _alleviate_ it exactly. “Rush… I hope that my actions do not seem odd. I worry that I am too forward—but I cannot help feeling that I know you from somewhere _before_ , perhaps in the past or even a passing face.” He shakes his head. “I _know_ you… but where? And _how_?”

And then— _then_ Rush has to laugh. Mostly out of incredulity and _relief_ because he’s _glad_ he isn’t the only one that feels that way. Maybe a bit less intuitive than David on his own end, but he can _definitely_ relate on obsessively wishing to know the Marquis a bit more. “Jeez, Dave.” Rush lets out his breath in a large whoosh. “You have _no_ idea how nervous I’ve been because lemme tell you now, I almost _died_ asking to meet you again that second night.”

The other seems shocked at the revelation, but Rush is glad to see him slowly relaxing. “So, you do not know either, then.” At Rush’s confused look, he reiterates. “There’s… a connection. Forgive me if it seems far too fast, or strange, but I have to know you better, as if… I need to _re_ -connect.”

Well, it appears David has a _way_ better intuition and interpretation on his feelings than Rush does. Chuckling slightly, his hand rises to the nape of his neck to once again rub at it awkwardly as he averts his gaze. “I guess I’ve been feeling the same way, then. I didn’t really know how to put it into words.”

 _Liar_.

Rush starts to frown before realising it’s probably showing.

 _You’re only saying that. You don’t know David at all—you don’t deem him as important as he does you. You only want to **use** him—_!

He doesn’t notice David has been speaking before the other abruptly stops and is looking at him with a slightly affronted expression. Before Rush can question as to what he’s doing, the Marquis starts incredulously: “did you just tell me to shut up?”

“Wha--?” Rush has to _gape_ first, eyes shooting up to the Marquis once again, completely _stunned_ by the notion the other presented and doesn’t know how to even _answer_ at first because he really _hasn’t_ said that, he’s pretty _sure_ but it takes a small moment of realization to dawn upon David’s features for Rush to actually even _say_ something. “I-I didn’t--?”

There’s a moment of realization upon the other’s face and it shuts Rush up. David starts chuckling, and the Remnant pauses once more in pure _confusion_ now. “I understand. You were talking to yourself again, I imagine.” Flushing with embarrassment, Rush huffs and crosses his arms, a distinct frown—or even _pout_ as some would say—crossing his features. The other continues with slight mirth in his tone. “It must be quite an argument.”

The burning in his face doesn’t diminish. “I guess you could say that.” He grumbles, “But, uh, what were you saying just now?”

David shakes his head. “Perhaps we should leave that to another conversation. You look tired, Rush.” He adds, observing him carefully.

In all honesty, the Remnant’s grateful the other even notices. However, his brows draw together in a frown, an accusatory look now directed to the Marquis. “Shouldn’t I be saying that about you?” He’s pretty darn sure that the other has worked far harder than himself these past few—well, _weeks_. David doesn’t _look_ tired (Rush is certain that there are bags present under his own eyes; how does the blond manage?) but there’s a certain slump to his shoulders, the slightest sway to his frame—Rush isn’t _that_ oblivious. He can see David trying to hide it, even though it is painfully obvious.

David gives a breathy laugh. “Perhaps. It has gotten late.” His gaze fixates upon him once again. “Do you need me to see you out, Rush? Or perhaps you can go out the way you came in?”

Indicating that the Marquis has actually _seen_ him utilize his power—Rush doesn’t have _that_ much to hide though there’s a small sensation on the back of his neck, that he shouldn’t _trust_ David because they’ve only talked _twice_ now—ah, _three_ times, if he is to include this meeting. But then, the Marquis hasn’t called for his guards: he confronted Rush alone and hasn’t at least been holding him at the point of his sword—

 _David is still holding his weapon_.

Rush’s eyes drift down, glimpses that the blade is _indeed_ still within the Marquis’ grip and is it his imagination—perhaps the night is playing tricks on him—or is David’s hand _shaking_ whilst grasping the hilt? Are the knuckles faintly white, indicating that he is grasping it with a vice grip--?

“Ah, my apologies.” There is a weary smile upon the Marquis’ lips and he moves to put his sword upon the bed, turning his back to the Remnant (a sign of _some_ trust, he imagines), and Rush curses himself for being so obvious with his observations. No doubt he’s offended the guy somehow. “In the past, there were assassins.” David starts, and turns to face Rush again, features more tired than ever. “I’m afraid old habits die hard.”

Eyes widening at the revelation, Rush is unsure whether he should take a step back to give the other some space or step forward to try and comfort him somehow. Instead, he rocks back and forth unsurely on his feet, deciding to just speak instead. “You… _assassins_?” He asks, for he is incredulous at the information. “Who’d wanna assassinate _you_?” Then he realises that it’s an insult in and of _itself_ , suggesting that perhaps the other isn’t _important_ enough to be the target of an assassination and he quickly backtracks. “I-I mean… you’re _Dave_. Your people really love you and…” Well, who would even want to tangle with the one bound to the Gae Bolg? Unless they wished to try and make it Blank so as to claim it for _themselves_ , which is an _incredibly_ risky move, considering the repercussions as well as the foes one will need to cross in order to even _get_ to the Marquis.

And of course, David will have already thought of this beforehand—perhaps that’s why he’s so wary of Rush, someone who can _easily_ teleport into his room at _any_ time of the night with no sound to alarm him. Or, there must’ve been _something_ to alert David of his presence, considering how fast he has _reacted_.

To his surprise, David laughs at his words. “Fortunately, it is not someone of my city that wishes me dead. Only recently I found that it’s someone of high standing, though I’ve yet to figure out whom exactly.”

“Someone in the big leagues, huh?” Rush wonders aloud, but he doesn’t know much politics. He doesn’t even know who’s allied with _who_ and with the Conqueror kicking up a fuss, then— _oh yeah._

“Wait, wait-er, this might be a weird question, but what’s up with the Conqueror?” He can’t believe he even _forgot_ because the last he heard, the guy was at Ghor but now he’s at Elysion? Is Ghor currently burnt to a crisp or--?

“It turned out Nagapur sent out an envoy requesting a truce.” The Marquis answers slowly, but seems unmoved at Rush’s question. “The Conqueror, surprisingly, accepted and pulled back his troops. Not many people know about this, mostly because they’re more relieved at the fact that there will be no war.”

“And… and the Dukes are okay with this?”

David looks at him with a wry smile. “Not all. There is unrest within Ghor because for generations, the Lords of Ghor have served the Hermeiens. For Wilfred Hermeien to turn his back on Duke Ghor and to even send a messenger to the Conqueror for a truce without discussing it beforehand with him is a direct slap in the face, so to speak.”

Rush whistles. “This Duke Hermeien is a pretty big risk-taker, huh?”

“You have _no_ idea.” The other remarks, a dry smile upon his lips. “I have told you about our failed attempt to rescue Irina, correct? That was at Dilmoor. Recently, we had received word of a group of unidentified soldiers, a white-robed man, and a flying Remnant entering Blackdale with a young girl. After comparing several reports, we were fairly certain it was Irina and at Duke Qubine’s command, I was to lead an investigation into it.”

 _That sounds about right_. _The Rubber Soul and the Schiavona_ … “Have you… have you already been there?”

David nods. “Indeed. However, that was also a failed attempt. The mage—Wagram, I believe—claimed to be part of the Academy and doing an experiment for them, though I doubt his words.”

Eyes inspect the other a bit more _thoroughly_ this time. There’s a reason why David hadn’t come out to visit him, why he has even sent Emma in his place and he steps forward hesitantly, brows furrowing. “Are you alright? I mean, are you wounded or--?

The other seems touched at his words, but shakes his head. “It is not permanent. I’ll be able to recover before our next move.” Rush isn’t any healer, so he can’t exactly confirm the other’s words or not. Still, the Marquis’ words catch his attention, and, affirming that David really _is_ okay, he carries on.

“So… what _is_ the next move?” Rush is surprised the other is telling him this so freely—still, he isn’t about to try and shut him up. He’s been _far_ too out of the loop of things lately, and David is, obviously, a better person to go to than the gossipy people around the pubs who have only heard rumours.

“Elysion, of course.” At his blank stare, the Marquis chuckles. “The Congress is to start in a few days’ time. There, I will inquire about Irina and hopefully get some answers. And perhaps… I will meet the famous Sykes.”

 _They’re in Elysion?_ Rush’s gaze averts temporarily, unable to help the flash of anger that arose just by the mere _mention_ of them. Of course, when _he’s_ gone, _then_ they go to Elysion. He hasn’t been there himself, and he can remember asking to go there numerous amounts of times but Mu— _Marina_ had been adamant on avoiding the place. And Irina… Irina got to grow up there, most likely.

He kind of wishes he didn’t learn that.

“But I’ve kept you long enough.” David says finally, “We seem to keep going off on tangents, don’t we?”

Rush grins in response, but he has to agree. “Alright. I’ll let you catch your beauty sleep.” He replies, and hears a chuckle in return. As he begins to muster the energy to teleport out of this place—landing right inside his room at the inn will be useful, he thinks—he halts suddenly, disrupting the flow and he looks to David once more and there’s a small moment of hesitation because— _should I say it crap I really need to just—_ and he blurts out the words that are just _lingering_ at the back of his mind.

“Say, uh… is that offer of joining you still open?” He’s not too sure what he’s doing. What he _is_ sure about is that the Conqueror will probably have his head for it, as well as Roeas but… what else is there to _do_? Besides, they’ll think he’s just information gathering which he _is_ sort of doing…

He isn’t _trying_ to be the bad guy here—he doesn’t _want_ to be. Maybe it’s selfish, but he wants _company_ , and he doubts the others will understand his point of view, so fixated they are on creating wars and him _awakening_ and him… _needing_ to abandon whatever Mitra concepts  he’s ‘taken up’.

But then, maybe it _is_ risky. What with his whole ‘blanked out memory’ he imagines David won’t be too impressed if he suddenly doesn’t show up for who knows how long and then cannot muster up a good enough explanation for his absence.

“It… it is.” David looks pleasantly surprised, as if Rush has just given him unexpected candy. “You want to accept it?”

Too late.

 _Darn, what could be the_ nicest _way to take that back--?_

Rush nods, reluctant to speak aloud for it may clue in the other to his sudden, _overwhelming_ uncertainty about his absolutely _rash_ decision.

“Are you sure?” David seems to get it, peering closer at him.

 _Not_ _really_.

A moment’s pause, then—

_Oh, what the heck._

“Yeah, I’m sure!” Rush grins. He wishes his face will stop doing that. From very far away, he can almost _feel_ the Valeria Heart’s smugness.

David, however, looks glad. He holds out his hand, and this time, Rush takes it. “Thank you. I have been short of help lately, so I’m relieved to hear you can join me.” He says sincerely, and the Remnant feels a little guilty at this. Still, he isn’t accepting the offer to _harm_ them. Though, once _Wagram_ finds out then…

_You’ve really got yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place, haven’t you?_

“Hey, it’s no problem! ‘Sides, I don’t have anything else to do, and if I can help, then I don’t mind sticking it out.” He reaches out, clapping the other on the shoulder with his free hand.

“I will make sure you are kept safe then. I promise.” David says solemnly all of a sudden, and Rush has to wonder at his words—and feel guilty.

“You’ve got enough problems of your own—let me take care of myself alright?”

“Hmm.” The Marquis makes a… _somewhat_ agreeable sound and Rush lets go of him, stepping back. “Come to the castle the day after tomorrow, we will be leaving then.” He continues, and moves to his bedside table, opening the drawer and taking out a pouch. Returning to Rush once more, he hands it over. “Consider this payment for your services.”

Dubious, Rush slowly opens it and stares at the contents. Immediately, his mouth drops open and he _almost_ drops it, but instead just fumbles with it in his grip. “I- _really?!_ How much is even _in_ here?” He looks to the bedside table and back to David again. “Do you _always_ keep this amount of gold beside you at night?” He shakes his head, attempting to shove the bag of gold _back_ to him. "I can't take this...!" As to _why_ , he doesn't exactly have a good reason but neither does he need that amount of gold.

“You look surprised.” David states calmly but doesn’t take back the coins. Rush almost balks at the blatant understatement. “How do you think mercenaries are hired? They certainly don’t do it out of the kindness of their hearts.” He puts a hand on the pouch, if only to push it at Rush’s chest gently. “Please, take it. I will feel better if you do.”

“A-alright.” He certainly can’t _deny_ it if David uses _that_ kinda tone with him. “I guess I can’t say no to you.” A smirk crosses his face and the Marquis chuckles.

David steps back. “Off with you then. I trust you’ll make it back to your home safely?”

He grins in response. “Yeah, I’ll be fine! Going out the way I came in, remember?” Is it just his imagination, or does the other’s expression falter slightly? Perhaps it’s ‘cause the other’s tired, and Rush can’t blame him for that. Maybe it’s best he leaves before they somehow get stalled on another conversation. “So I guess I’ll see you in two days.” He says in farewell, and salutes.

The other smiles warmly. “Indeed. Ah—one last thing.” The Remnant pauses in the gathering of his power, and pays attention. “I actually do sleep with my money beside me. It’s a sure way to pay off any assassins that come by.” There’s a mischievous grin upon those tan features.

 _Smart guy_.

He laughs aloud, but doesn’t reply, already being whisked away instantaneously by a shimmer of darkness.

* * *

 

For a long moment, David stands motionless. Tan visage slowly slips to sobriety and calloused digits intertwine behind his back, a contemplative air around his figure dawning. Golden tresses sway as he cants his head to the side slightly, and the thinnest smile curves bronze tiers now.

“Emma. You do not need to hide now that he is gone.” He says aloud, and the warrior slowly unmasks herself from the doorway behind him, previously and _wholly_ unnoticed by _himself_ , admittedly, until now.

She holds her fist to her chest and bows her head. “I apologize deeply, My Lord, but I had to know that you were safe.”

Immediately, David holds up a hand, his smile disappearing. “There is no need for that. You were right to. I don’t trust him as much as I have said.”

Emma looks up, slightly confused. “My Lord?”

“I admit that some of the words I have told him were lies.” David says, and a weary sigh escapes him. “I could see that he was in need of company. That is why I pushed so hard to try and acquire him, meeting him at night when you all told me not to. I had to gain his trust, and… guilt trip him into joining us.” When she doesn’t respond, he fears the worst yet continues all the same. “There is no connection. I don’t feel anything for him. I followed my instincts, for they told me that I should keep an eye on him. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t stoop to emotional manipulation but… even Kellendros feels fear at the sight of him. I couldn’t risk it.” His fists clench. “It is… disgusting. I would not blame you if you were to leave my service. You have served Athlum well and—“

“Lord David—“ She moves forward quickly, features softening at the sight of the young Lord. “I would never leave you nor Athlum. I trust in your judgement, and though it may be cruel, it is necessary. There is… something about him that I cannot put my finger on. Your wariness is justified.”

A slow exhale parts his lips, and he looks to her gratefully. “Thank you, Emma.” A short pause. “Did you witness his ability to transport himself? I haven’t seen anything like it, especially without the use of a Transporter or a special type of Remnant, since I did not see any on him.”

She nods. “I did. That was quite a gamble you put out there, making it sound like you witnessed his power so that he would feel safe to show it again.”

“It was too fast to see when he first did it. I was unsure whether he jumped in through the window or simply ran in with inhuman speed. But… now we know.” A hand raises, flexes before his chest. “I must find out more about his abilities and their limitations. With him joining us, we can keep an eye on whatever he does.” Guilt is palpable around his being, but he reminds himself that it is not something to regret. “Rush may very well prove to be a danger to Athlum. I cannot allow him to roam free without keeping tabs on him.” He speaks his thoughts aloud, and wonders if he’s trying too hard to convince himself.

“It is wise of you to be cautious, My Lord. His naivety may just be a cover.”

He appreciates the sentiment, but it does not banish the feeling of _wrongdoing_. However, he focuses more upon the woman’s face, the weathered features and they seem ever _wearier_ than he remembers. “Is something bothering you, Emma?” His voice is soft in it’s query.

Her eyes avert briefly. “He just seems… _familiar_. I cannot place it, but…” She shakes her head. “Perhaps it is just my imagination.”

David considers her words; he does not know exactly when she started eavesdropping, but she doesn’t seem to be cognizant of the mystery boy’s name. He decides to state it plainly. “His name is Rush.”

For a long moment, he does not think she’ll respond. She’s gone deathly still, and he wonders whether she truly _does_ know him from somewhere. Her hair shadows her expression, which is a pity, but he steps forward, brows furrowing in concern now over her reaction—or lack thereof.

“Is he someone you know of?” He asks; he hadn’t expected this response from the seasoned warrior. Not much rattles Emma, but apparently this is of great importance and his curiosity and worry rise exponentially.

“He…” Emma straightens suddenly, looking to David and he sees her actively steeling her features. Even before she speaks, he has the feeling he won’t be privy to her thoughts any time soon. “My Lord, may I request a personal favour?”

David only hesitates for a nanosecond. “What is it, Emma?”

“I wish to journey ahead to Elysion, before everyone else. There is something I must find out.”

"Do you care to explain why?"

She doesn't answer.

David looks at her for a moment, but he knows there is no reason to doubt her loyalty despite her vagueness here. "Then I trust you. Is it alright if you take a few men? I would worry if you were completely alone."

Emma seems surprised, and David cannot help being amused by this. "My Lord?"

He knows that if Torgal were here, he would throw a fit. "Go ahead, Emma. But be careful, please. I wish to see you in one piece in Elysion."

She brings her fist to her heart. "Of course, Lord David. I thank you for your trust."

"You have served Athlum well. I think it would be unfit of me to distrust you over a personal matter."

Emma smiles softly. "Never you, My Lord." She's averts her gaze briefly before looking to him once more. "There is... one more thing I must ask of you, if you do not mind."

"What is it?"

"Will you check if this Rush is missing half of his left ring finger, and the whole of his smallest finger on the same hand?" Her voice is somber, and David has to wonder what story there is behind it.

"Now that I think about it, he wore long gloves." Black, and armored to protect his forearms, he suspects. Quite unlike his own white, thin ones. "I will try to find out for you." There was no harm in doing so, yet it would require further manipulation on his part.

"Thank you." There is relief in her tone. “I will tell you everything, My Lord, when I figure things out. I apologize for withholding information but my instincts may be wrong and it would be unfair of me to worry you with unnecessary concerns—”

“Emma.” He stops her there. “None of your concerns are unworthy of bringing to my attention.” She should already know this. If he doesn’t know any better, Emma will have already left, will have been concise and to the point but she seems _rattled_. It appears that whatever is bothering her, it is of utmost importance. “I will not push you. Speak to me when you are ready; you already have my full trust, remember?” There is an attempted smile.

She exhales, and to any other it seems casual but David can tell she is stressed. “Thank you, My Lord. I will be off, then.”

“You’re not going to rest?” He wonders whether he really _should_ stop her now.

A shake of her head. “I will not need it. But, I’ll take who I can with me, so that you can rest assured of my wellbeing.”

He’s grateful for _that_ at least. “Good.” He pauses, before speaking softly. “Take care, Emma. I’ll see you in Elysion.”

“You will, My Lord.” She gives a warm smile and bows her head before briskly turning and moving out of the room once more.

David stands still after she leaves, thoughts awhirl after her departure.  He sincerely hopes she will be alright, along with the troops that she takes along but he has to admit the curiosity about what she is thinking and what she _knows_ is _eating_ at him inside. It is all to do with Rush, and he’s not certain what to conclude.

_Who are you, Rush?_

He begins to pace.

Inner machination whir, and he feels as if he has lied to Emma as _well_ upon stating that he feels no connection to the other male. There is _something_ there, like he is a familiar face but it is as if it is a distant memory, a _flickering_ one that bounces away on the edges of his mind, dancing just out of reach when he tries to mentally grasp it.

At first glance, he can pin Rush as naïve and completely simple in the way that he wears his heart upon his shoulder—a trait not exactly well _practised_ anymore nowadays, considering how jaded citizens have become. Though, he cannot help feeling suspicious at the other’s actions, flip-flopping on the decision to join David. Was it merely out of whim, or perhaps, during those three weeks, Rush had met someone who’s _told_ him to join the Marquis on his search for Irina?

Whatever the case, the information David has told Rush is right there to digest. Whatever he decides, David will know simply by the enemy’s moves, and _then_ he will be able to tell whether or not he can trust Rush. Other circumstances may influence Wagram’s moves, he is sure, but he must take into account how much he’s told Rush. The moment the other reveals something David himself doesn’t know, or perhaps suggests something that seems counterproductive to _whatever_ schemes lay within the Marquis’ mind, he’ll have Rush arrested.

Interrogation is sure to follow; lines of questions and many glares and… ah, David wishes it will not come to that. There are some, admittedly, under his rule that delight in the spilling of blood for no reason, and they are the last resort for _anything_.

Still, the thought of it coming to that at _all_ is _painful_ to comprehend, somehow. He _wants_ to trust Rush, to be drawn in by that honesty and naivety but there are just some things that are still off-putting about him that David cannot ignore.

Shaking his head, the Marquis finally decides to try to get some rest. Who knows when he’ll be able to? But then, he imagines he won’t be able to get to sleep tonight.

Yet as soon as his head hits the pillow, wisps of memories come—

( _Davey-Dave! Yer not gonna believe what just happened--!_

_Mmmm! Mom said we shouldn’t play with that stuff!_

_But-but it’s really, really interesting, Dave! Pleeeaaase? Listen to me!! I’ll cry if you don’t!_

_… Alriiiight, since you’re my friend._

_You’re awesome, Davey! See, look! I got this just before, when…!_ )

\--and disperse.

David’s eyes open once more, and it feels as if he has only closed them for a second. There is something _there_ at the edges of his memory but it is flimsy and hard to grasp. After a few frustrating moments, he finally gives up, and turns to lie on his other side if only to gaze at the moon outside.

_Who are you, Rush?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally some David thoughts! oh man this chapter took long to come out u___u hope y'all enjoyed all the same! i'll probably take even longer with future chapters because i'm replaying the game for a second time and trying to aim for a perfect game whICH i probably won't even get bc there's just so many little nooks and crannies to it omf lkjalskfj buuut holla! wish me luck! and i'll bless you with food somehow lkjsaf
> 
> btw i might still do some editing and revising orz lksajf this plot is going all over the place omg i need to get my shit together u___u all the same i'll try and iron out any plotholes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my eyes were literally straining when i was proofreading so i hope that i haven't missed any errors!!! still, i hope y'all enjoy!!

Rush doesn’t even manage a single _step_ towards his bed before he finds himself hurtling to the ground, his knees ultimately going weak and the breath is knocked out of him just like _that_. Distantly, he hears the bag of coins spill across the floor as a splitting pain seems to have made it’s home within his right temple and instinctively he curls into himself, a pained groan escaping his lips. Tremors shake his frame and he _hates_ this, hates how he can be reduced so easily because of these damn _bindings_ that Marion’s Blessing has put upon him. Ever since his first episode at the tender age of eleven, it’s something he _dreads_ because it happens unexpectedly and _fast_. Sometimes he can be at his utmost _peak_ and it will not occur until later in the day; it has unpredictable fluctuations and it only fuels his anger at how _Marina_ could do this to her own, so-called _child_.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there in the darkness of his room. He doesn’t even know if he still even _owns_ this small space because of the large gap in his memory. The last thing he _does_ remember clearly is that the rent only lasted for a few weeks tops and _three weeks ago_ he was nearing the end of that deal. Maybe it’s just luck—maybe they _haven’t_ vacated him out yet or maybe he unknowingly extended the stay—but he’s grateful that he hasn’t teleported on top of another person.

Deciding to worry about that later, he decides to concentrate on breathing. In, out. In… and out. In… and…

It’s _working_ at least. With the breath whistling through both his nostrils and mouth steadily, it’s easier to concentrate on _that_ than the throbbing pain at his temple. After a few more minutes, he’s certain it’ll clear up, like it has in the past.

He’s not even sure what triggered this in the _first_ place, however. Sans the whole blank memory thing, he’s only done two teleportations and then _bam_ , he’s out. He supposes if he _really_ wants to find out the cause of this, then he should figure out what exactly he’s been _doing_ these past few weeks, but he’s not even sure where to _start_ , both person-wise _and_ city-wise.

Still… it just his imagination, or is the pain now beginning to recede?

“You’ve pushed yourself too hard.” The imperious tone is hard to _not_ recognize and Rush wishes he hadn’t heard it at _all_.

Well, here comes the full-blown pain again.

“Go awaaaayy.” He moans aloud at the Conqueror, who’s probably standing somewhere nearby looking down his nose at Rush in that snob way of his. However, he’s pretty darn serious in his complaint—whenever the Conqueror comes around, it seems like the pain _always_ increases tenfold. Still, he _imagines_ he hears _some_ kind of concern within the other’s tone—it’s enough to quell his urge to snap at the guy.

“You have decided to join the Marquis, I see.”

And it’s _then_ Rush freezes, because he hadn’t expected him to find out so _soon_. Heck, it’s hardly been an _hour_ since he saw David, much less ten minutes.

“S’none of your business.” He says lamely, and squeezes his eyes shut. Oh, that’s _sure_ to incense the other, but he currently doesn’t care.

Yet, when there are subsequently heavy boots nearing his frame, he cringes despite himself. The Conqueror hasn’t exactly _hurt_ him before, but what’s stopping him from doing it _now_ when Rush has obviously gone and done something that hasn’t been discussed with him beforehand?

The footsteps stop, and Rush cracks an eye open. Boots are right before his eyes and he can see each and every individual thread of cotton that made up that strange, _strange_ uniform that the Conqueror wore. The pain steadily becomes more _insistent_ in his temples, and he groans aloud. He’s not sure whether he can _handle_ this agony _and_ the pain in the butt that the Conqueror tends to be around him.

“Don’t you have some conquering to do or something?” He hisses through clenched teeth, and is surprised to hear the other snort. In, well, _disdain_ , but that’s not unexpected.

“I cannot do anything while you are in such a pitiful condition.”

Rush manages to roll his eyes. “Nice to hear such concern ‘bout me.” That seemed to always be his excuse while he bore witness to Rush’s suffering. He figures that the other is sadistic, which shouldn’t really _surprise_ him considering that he’s… ah, the _Conqueror_. “Can’t you just pick me up and throw me on the bed and leave already?”

“No.”

Well, that was blunt.

Groaning a little louder—if only to spite the other, because Rush isn’t entirely below doing _that_ either—he finally begins to haul himself up into a sitting position. Eyes are screwed tight together, for he imagines that just by _seeing_ things he’ll get _supremely_ dizzy and flomp right over once again, which is something he doubts he’ll really _survive_. Hands outstretching, he ignores the pain in favour of finding himself a far more comfortable surface to lie on and, feeling the edges of the bed, he practically _drags_ himself towards it, forcing wobbly and weak legs to bend and lift him until he’s half slumped over the mattress.

After a moment of trying to flip his embarrassingly jello legs over it, he lets out a large sigh and just lets them lie haphazardly to the side, slumping his head into his arms. The pounding in his head isn’t ceasing, and he doesn’t think he can manage the effort he just pulled before again. For a moment, he’s content to just half-sit, half- _lie_ there, even when he feels the gradual numbness of his legs from his awkward position, and knows he’ll get _killer_ pins and needles in the morning.

When he speaks again, his voice is muffled.

“So are you gonna just watch me suffer or lecture me all pompous-like?”

There’s a pause before the Conqueror deigns to answer. “You stray from your purpose.”

Rush barely manages a snort.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

The Conqueror doesn’t give an answer.

Rush isn’t sure how long he waits for one. His mind’s already shutting down, desperate to blank out the pain and he sinks into an uncomfortable trance. The sensations of his limbs are fading and he doesn’t _think_ he hears the Conqueror leave. But then, neither does he keep track of his own thoughts, scattered as they are at the overwhelming pain beforehand and he thinks of the Valeria Heart, wishing that he can feel the contentment it emits. It's sure to ease the discomfort he feels, but he also knows that maybe such pain will go away if he meets with David again.  Granted, he only just left the guy to get some well-needed rest but Rush cannot help being so clingy.  He did the same with José and Nora, he recalls, yet he hadn't really realized how giddy the Marquis makes him.

 _Must be something to do with his tan._ The thought is pointless but he finds himself nodding to it mentally in a sleep-deprived stupor. _It's definitely to do with his ridiculously good tan._

Is it even a tan, though? Add that to the list of questions he'll ask the guy when they travel together— maybe it's getting a little too long (well, he _imagines_ it’ll become long) but he can't really deny how much he looks forward to the trip in a day's time. He's getting excited at the thought of actually having a companion while traversing the broad lands. While the end goal is to help Irina, he finds that it’s a bit more worth it to make a few solid friends he can hang out with in the future… if there’ll even be one.

Irina’s safety will probably become David’s biggest concern, something Rush is _not_ looking forward to. Or maybe she’ll just go off with… Marina and John and she and David will never have to speak to each other ever again because… it’d just been a _favour_ , right? Still… he hopes he won’t have to encounter her directly. But then, if he blanks out like he did for the past few weeks, then there isn’t much he _can_ do about that…

Which reminds him… he’ll have to spend a few hours with José tomorrow. It wouldn’t do good to disappear on him _again_ without some sorta explanation. And then… he’ll have to explain _where_ he’s going and with _who_ …

As it is, his consciousness dips in and out of oblivion, his train of thought becoming less coherent and by the time he strings together the possibility that the other has already left, he registers a touch under his shoulders before they become a full-fledged grip. He feels his body shifting, but he's far too tired to check who's doing this though there's relief upon his legs from the hard ground and pressure and he isn't sure when it happens, but he's lying on his back now with something tickling at his chin in tandem with a coarse finger smoothing back his brow.

"Sleep well."

A woman's voice.

There's only one that would treat him so tenderly, especially when he may not be aware of it. A soft smile spreads across his lips at the realization and he feels the pain start to ebb. Is she using Mystic Arts on him? There's a warm glow of light he's slightly cognizant of, but the colour is unfamiliar.  Still, he cannot find it in himself to try to find out. It's easing the throbbing pain away, and he's barely aware of a sigh parting his lips, his form curling to the touch.

Content for now, there's a barely intelligible murmur escaping his lips before he's consumed by slumber once more.

* * *

 

When Rush goes to the bar the next day, José isn’t there. Instead, there’s only the guy that helps him out behind the bar, to which Rush is _sorely_ confused about. After being told that José doesn’t actually work during the _day_ anymore, he wanders back outside once more, a bit put out at this information but not before asking the other youth to deliver a small message for him.

He figures that if he tries to find him now, José will probably be sleeping, gaining energy for the night’s work and he doesn’t want to interrupt his rest. Better to have a conversation when Rush comes back from Elysion, maybe, or else he’ll have to… rush his preparations for when the party leaves the next morning.

Or maybe Rush is just underestimating his ability to stay awake and stay sober even _after_ drinking for the sake of wanting to stall the eventual explanation he’ll have to give José.

As it turns out, however, he actually has to adopt that plan.

Not even ten minutes after leaving the Warrior’s Honour, he encounters an Athlumian guard. At first, he doesn’t think _too_ much of it but the guard seems to be looking _very_ closely at Rush and he gives up, deciding to go and approach him.

“Slumped posture, simple…” The guard seems to be muttering to himself, nodding. “You must be Lord David’s friend!”

For a moment, he can’t really decide whether to be offended or not because of the apparent description. However, he’s also charmed at being called the Marquis’ _friend_. All the same, he decides to respond favourably despite the words used to describe him. “That’s me!”

The other gives him a final once over, before bringing his fist to his chest. “Lord David Nassau has sent out a summons. He wishes for you to meet him at the castle!”

“O…kay?” He begins uncertainly, but the soldier doesn’t really offer anything more than a straight face and so he leaves him without too much of a fuss. As he makes his way to the aforementioned place, he’s still a little miffed at the description David put out for him. _Another_ thing to ask, he supposes, though he’s curious as to _why_ David has asked for him when they’re supposed to be leaving the morning after.

Whatever it is, it can’t be _that_ bad, right?

Nonetheless, when he finally makes it to the castle, he gets redirected from the throne room to down a hallway and instead of being _lead_ _straight_ to David, he’s just told to keep on heading in the same direction and he does so, _dubiously_ because shouldn’t someone be keeping an eye on him? Aren’t they wary of some stranger being nosy in the more private parts of the castle? He supposes he shouldn’t worry about it too much, though.

Being in such a fancy, _noble_ place actually makes him feel small and, well, _simple_. He looks down briefly to see that he still has a stain upon his armoured vest and feels his palms start to become clammy. He feels a little underprepared for this all but he manages to shove away the feelings of uncertainty and anxiety. David is a friend, right? He shouldn’t judge _too_ much, even if the description he’s told his messengers is a little… _well_.

He comes out to the open air once more, and between the view of two pillars—and, _wow_ that’s an _awesome_ garden—he sees those two-toned panels, the dominant purple glaring down the tunic and the insignia stretching brilliantly along it. Yup, that’s David alright.

Marching forward, his arms are thrown up in a flurry as he approaches in a manner that is far more casual than he plans.

“’Slumped posture’ and ‘simple’ is a funny way of expressing how dashing and handsome I am.” He jokes as soon as he comes within earshot and David turns as soon as he hears his voice. There is surprise upon tan features, as if he only just noticed him, but it is immediately composed with… well, can Rush call it ‘elegant’ confusion? Is it even possible? All he knows is that David is pretty much _that_ right now. And is pretty. But Rush’ll stop there before his thoughts run wild.

“Pardon?” The confusion shows in his tone then, and Rush begins to feel confused as well.

“Uh… the description you put out for me?”

A pause, then a sudden chuckle. It’s a nice sound, Rush decides. “My apologies—Torgal handled that, actually.” At his blank stare, David elaborates. “Torgal is one of my Generals. He knows of you, surprisingly enough. I have never pegged him as one to visit the pub very often, but he says it is informational.”

“Oh, uh—“ Rush feels a distinct heat crawl up his neck. “He’s seen me in the pub, huh?”

“Once.” David replies, and there is a tiny smirk developing upon his lips. “A few months ago. You were quite intoxicated at the time and you asked if you could pet Torgal. And then you, ah, subsequently tried to do it.”

For a moment, Rush gapes at him. Alright, he _definitely_ seems to lack memories of the times he’s drunk off his face _completely_ because he can hardly recall _that_. And by the way David words it, Torgal is a _Sovani_ and he’s heard that Sovanis tend to look down upon other races, or _something_ along those lines. The opinion certainly hadn’t been helped along by Snievan, but he supposes he shouldn’t just judge by _his_ personality. Although, Caedmon and Wyngale seemed like pretty nice people—albeit a little creepy.

“So _that_ explains the description, huh?” Rush muses aloud, wrenching his thoughts back once more, although he finds the story hilarious. What he wouldn’t _give_ to see the look on the Sovani’s face when he’d attempted such an action. He entertains the notion of doing it again but he figures he’ll have to get super drunk again before gathering the courage—or rather, throwing away his common sense—to do so. Then again, he supposes that defeats the purpose, considering he won’t even remember it afterwards.

"Indeed." David says with a smile, but his tone turns serious. It’s almost automatic, how Rush straightens at the first sign of authority and it’s kinda… _cool_ seeing this kinda charisma from David. "Before we get too side-tracked again, however, I'd like to talk to you about... well, you. On the journey to Elysion, there'll be an increase in monsters due to the Collapses. I'll need to know how you operate and what skills you bring to the field so I can properly assign you to a union."

"Oh... uh..." Rush shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, and wonders what to say to somehow convince David that...?

"I tend to fight by myself." He says carefully. David tilts his head, just the slightest bit, in inquiry, and Rush finds that a little adorable. "I mean, my fighting style is a bit explosive. I don't think it'll be good to put me on a team." Which means he's only ever _learned_ how to fight by himself. The general principle of unions and how they operate has never been taught to him. It's something the Conqueror imposed on him, along with Roeas and Castanea and several others. He supposes he can still learn, but he hadn't lied about his style of fighting either.

David slowly nods, considering his words. He _seems_ to be unbothered by Rush’s words and continues. "Alright. What Arts do you know?"

Rush wonders whether to dumb it down a little, but he finds he wants to actually impress the other. With a moderate amount of modesty, of course. "Uh... Invocations,  Evocations, Psionics, Wards,  Remedies. I know a few Item Arts like Herbs, Potions, and Lotions though those last two I didn’t really bother getting into.” Ludope had insisted, but Rush whined enough that the qsiti had to just be satisfied with him only knowing _Herbs_ fully. “Heh, I’m pretty awesome at Shards but I’m rubbish at Traps and I only know a tiny bit of Explosives.” A hand comes up, reaches to the nape of his neck and rubs at it awkwardly. He’s adopted a scrunched up expression, attempting to think of anything he’s missed, and so is largely unaware of the now steadily growing astonishment upon David’s features.

“You know quite a lot for your age. You must be proud of yourself.” David smiles then, though when Rush looks up again, there is an emotion within his eyes that he cannot identify. Still, the words are enough to please him and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly in excitement.

“Mmhm! Travelling does wonders, I guess.” He agrees, though what he really means is being trained by The Seven does a _lot_ of wonders. However, he pauses before adding on quickly: “Er, I don’t know any Combat Arts, though.”

David doesn’t seem too surprised. “Something to do with your fighting style, I imagine?” At Rush’s nod, he continues. “Then I’ll see it for myself tomorrow.”

Suggesting that they’re _already_ going to be within a few battles the next day but Rush shouldn’t be surprised—they’re gonna be traversing in the Ivory Peaks and it’s not exactly the _friendliest_ place on earth. Those Raptors sure know how to _charge_ and Rush recalls an unpleasant experience in which he’s been caught in it’s sights. Snievan had laughed his furry face off of course but _damn_ can Rush remember how _sweet_ Hannah was to him when she had to take care of him. It’s a giddy thought, but he brushes it from his mind quickly.

“Thank you, Rush.” David says suddenly, and the Remnant’s eyes widen at the unexpected gratitude. His hand is held out as he continues. “For agreeing to join me. Any help is greatly appreciated, especially within these dangerous times.”

“Do you really need to thank me?” Rush jokes, grinning, but he reaches out to shake the Marquis’ hand—oh, wait. He hurriedly changes the arm he uses since the other has offered the opposite; normally it’s the right hand that shaken, isn’t it? Still, he isn’t about to question David. Maybe he’s using his left hand for some sorta special reason. Or maybe Athlum’s just weird like that.

Engaging the offered appendage with the correct one this time, he shakes the other’s left hand vigorously, ignoring the awkwardness that came with the unused angle. Is it just him, though, or is the Marquis gripping his hand a little tighter than what would be expected? Or maybe he’s just adjusting his grip, but he continues nonetheless, hoping to stealthily avoid his mistake (though from the sudden mirth in David’s eyes he suspects that he’s already caught on).

“You’ve already paid me and all—I reckon I got enough to last me a few months with some extra pleasures on the side.” He leans in slightly then, smirking. “ _And_ that’s not counting all the spoils from the battles we’ll fight, yeah?”

For a moment, he doesn't think David will answer. He seems somewhat distracted, looking at Rush but also _not_ before abruptly pulling his grasp from the handshake.  Paranoid that he's done something wrong, a bewildered expression takes place upon Rush's features.

"Uh, Dave? You alright?" A tentative query. He’s almost afraid of the answer.

"Ah, yes." The other quickly recovers from whatever reverie he has been pulled into. Stormy hues regard him once more, and there's a pleasant smile upon his face. "My apologies, Rush. I was rather enamoured with how handsome your face is."

Rush gapes at him. Had he really just _said_ that?! And Rush thought _he'd_ be the more audacious one out of the two of them.

_He's lying. There’s something else going on. He’s suspicious. ~~I shouldn’t trust him.~~_

Shaking off the darker thoughts, he grins easily in response and hopes it doesn’t falter. He's not about to lose whatever game they're playing now. "Didn't know you swing that way, Dave."

"I like to think I'm open-minded." The other responds with the slightest smirk upon his lips, and he's so smooth and _mature_ about it that Rush is admittedly floored from the charm _radiating_ off the Marquis. Just… damn, how does someone get that _perfect_?

“And hot.” He says aloud without thinking and abruptly _curses_ his loose lips. Eyes duck immediately in embarrassment but they tentatively glance up to appraise David’s own reaction.

“I, erm…” The other’s eyes are wide at the unexpected response, looking anywhere _but_ at Rush, and David is openly flabbergasted. The Remnant can _see_ that he’s trying to put together proper composure once more but as it is, tan features twitch awkwardly and Rush just bursts out laughing at the image.

“ _That’s_ for catching _me_ off-guard earlier!” He says in a childish fashion though he’s sure he’s grinning like an idiot.

“…Then your admission earlier isn’t true?” The Marquis has _definitely_ regained his bearings by now and is cocking his head with the _slyest_ smirk back on his face.

Immediately, a pout— _subconsciously_ , of course—makes itself known across Rush’s lips. “I-well, y’know…” A pause, and one of his hands come up to rub awkwardly at the nape of his neck. “You are hot… kinda. A lot.”

The other seems not to expect the sincerity in his tone; he’s sorta glad he got to one-up him again and feels slightly accomplished upon witnessing the tiniest blush happen upon the other’s cheeks.

“Ah… thank you, Rush. I appreciate the compliment.”

A brow arches at this. He himself doesn’t expect the genuine _gratitude_. “You seem like the sorta guy that’d get that a lot.”

The Marquis laughs. “I believe people around my age tend to be shy of approaching me, let alone saying something as forward as that.”

“I guess it would be kinda awkward for some fifty-year-old saying to your face about how perfectly sculpted it is.” _That really sucks_ , is what he _wants_ to say because how did it feel to be isolated from his own age group? While Rush himself hasn't exactly grown up like that, there was still a fair amount of people that still looked out for him... and he supposes Hannah and Hinnah count. Though, they're a little older than him but hey, he still has some people, right? He imagines that David must be the same, what with his Generals and all but is there anyone that he can consider... Er, consider dating maybe? Someone that...

Alright, he's going way too off-track. Better stop the thought process there before he considers being one of the first to... heh.

Crud. Hannah definitely rubbed off on him.

“My face is ‘perfectly sculpted’ now, is it?” It’s David’s turn to cock an eyebrow and only _then_ does Rush start to feel heat rising in his neck. “Are there any more descriptions you wish to apply to me?”

"I'll make sure to write a whole list." Rush replies, grinning, and cannot help feeling pleased seeing the returned smile.

They lapse into silence once more and Rush cannot help but feel a little awkward.  There's the need to start up conversation again and his mind is running wild with several possibilities on what exactly to say next.  It doesn't seem like David is having the same problem, calmly turning with his hands clasped behind his back to the garden that he'd been gazing at before, Rush suspects. Of course, maybe David was one of those people, who was perfectly comfortable with the silence enough that Rush doesn't have to worry about keeping him entertained, and he thought that was cool. Kinda awkward, though.

"Rush." It took a full few minutes until David spoke again and Rush feels relieved-- despite his earlier thought, he's been trying to figure out the smoothest way to dismiss himself. With David's next words, he's not sure whether he should've been a bit faster or not. "I apologize for prying, but I did ask José about you."

_What?_

Immediately, Rush's thought process goes wild.

For a _very_ panicked moment Rush feels a little hurt that José would _betray_ him like this because he _has_ told him to keep quiet about his name, right? Or at least, that’s what his very fuzzy memory is telling him. He’d told him, right? Then again, maybe David had used his suave ways to get him to get information or maybe José realized what Rush had been doing all along, visiting the Marquis without really _saying_ anything—

“José is an ex-General of Athlum.” David says simply, and continues as if shock hasn’t completely immobilized Rush and left him gaping rather _wide_ at him, eyes as wide as saucers. “To be quite honest… he’s the one that told me about you, before I ever met you. Though, he never called you by name. Until I asked, of course.”

_Eh?_

“As the owner of the Warrior’s Honour, he’s quite a valuable source of information and neither is he bad company to keep.” David smiles in something like amusement, seemingly not acknowledging Rush’s shock. “He’s really fond of you, you know.”

Rush stares, unable to reply.

The Marquis seems quite comfortable with the sudden lapse into silence, and he hurriedly responds before it gets too awkward (for _him_ , at least).

“ _What?_ ”

_Wow, good **going** , Rush. Such an **insightful** question._

“I apologize.” David says again, and the smile disappears. He looks quite sad now. Rush really wishes that smile will come back. “I imagine he wanted to tell you, but he did have a cover to keep. Not many remember him, but he has served Athlum well in the past.”

_Why now, though? Why would José only **now** tell Dave about me?_

“S-so… you learned my name from him then, huh?” Probably a redundant question, but he feels he has to confirm it. And of course, David nods and before Rush can continue, he swiftly interjects.

“He was reluctant to depart with the information. It was my own insistence that he eventually did tell me.” He says slowly; grey hues are intense upon Rush and he really _can_ hear the regret in his voice. “Please, if you feel any anger then place it on me.”

 _So that’s why_ …

“No! Don’t worry—I… I don’t mind, I guess.” When he replies, he actually means his words. After all, it’d only been his _name_ that he told the bartender, right? It’s not as if he knows _everything_ about Rush and he feels a little silly for actually being hurt by it. Names didn’t hurt anyone.

Except—

_Except Emma is Marina’s **close** friend. If David told Emma your name, then she would tell Marina because she’d **know** who you are. Then they’ll **find** you and they’ll **question** you where you’ve been and you won’t have the freedom you have **now** —_

Ah, crap.

"I still wish to make it up to you somehow." David is saying now, and he looks at Rush as if he is trying to hold his gaze-- which makes sense. He can't really recall if he's talking to himself again but he immediately directs his attention to David once more. “I regret invading your privacy, even if I believed it was necessary--"

"Nah, it's fine. Really!" Rush waves a hand absentmindedly, grinning at the Marquis. "It's not like there's anything special about my name or anything."

Rush Sykes. If the last name especially got out then there'll be a whole mess of things to clean up and he doesn't want to deal with it. People will ask him where he's been and who's he been staying with--

_Your name isn't **important**. _

_No one will **care** once they hear it._

_It doesn't strike as much fear as the **Conqueror's** does._

David is looking at him now, tilting his head very slightly. Rush feels like he interrupted the guy again while speaking, though he doesn't seem too annoyed. "You wouldn't want _what_ anyway?"

Crud.

"Oh, er, nothing. It's nothing important." Rush says hastily and David nods slowly. He has the feeling the Marquis doesn't buy it but he supposes that's expected. Still, he's starting to get uncomfortable regardless and David has... some important duties, right?

"Anyway, I should head off and get ready..."

What a lame excuse. Even Rush can’t really deny it and he can tell that David has seen through it but he seems to readily accept it all the same, which he appreciates. The other seems so composed and chill and _sure_ of himself that Rush _feels_ like he has to be the same sometimes, to get on David’s level—well, when he’s more _attentive_ to those kinda traits, of course.

Damn, why is the Marquis so _perfect_?

Even now, the smile doesn’t falter as David nods. Every movement is done in a measured way, in a _smooth_ way and Rush sorta wants to try and imitate that air but he figures it’d be a bit dumb to. He’ll probably muck it up somehow anyways.

“Of course. I apologize for keeping you.”

As if Rush wants to actually _be_ anywhere else right now. He has half a mind to visit José but the fact that he’s… an ex- _General_ stops Rush short. It’s not like he’ll avoid him _completely_ but for now… well, _now_ it feels like Rush should be a bit more careful and he doesn’t think he can muster up _some_ image for the guy right now, no matter how much he’s lazed about in the past.

 _Project an impression. Maybe I can recover it if José thinks I’m just a regular drunk that’s too big for his britches_ …

It feels like Rush can’t trust him anymore, but he _should_ be able to. He _should_ because the bartender has always been a steady presence when Rush needs company at night and though he cannot remember half the things he’s s said and done while intoxicated, he can recall stories from the young man that stays beside José as well as from the man himself.

“… ah, and one more thing.” David is saying now, and Rush starts slightly, realizing he hasn’t been paying attention _again_ but the Marquis doesn’t seem offended, if he’s noticed at all. Or maybe he’s just used to it by now. He follows when David beckons him to, and he leads Rush into another hallway of his castle, taking a left at the first door which leads to _another_ corridor before they pause in front of the second door to the right. David looks at him now, and there is a small smile playing upon his lips. “If you wish, you can use these guest quarters. I’ve heard that you’ve taken up residence at the local inn, but I imagine it is slightly cramped.”

For a moment, Rush doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know whether he should be _happy_ and thankful because of David’s offer, that he’s even _bothered_ to care for him. He doesn’t know whether to feel like he _shouldn’t_ accept this offer because the Marquis already has done so much for him and Rush now seems like he’s been taking _way_ too much from him. And then… he figures he should be _suspicious_ as well, because at the very least, David seems like he’s trying to keep an _eye_ on Rush and… and he doesn’t know what to think about that.

 _Simple_. _He doesn’t trust you_.

Which makes sense. Rush tells him all about his own prowess then _nothing_ about where he’s from and his allegiances (and he’s even _more_ suspicious when he’s said he just travels for the _sake_ of travelling) so if anything, he'd be surprised if David lets him run around free without supervision.

All the same, he still appreciates it. The room at the Inn isn't something long-term, and he's been staying there for quite a while now. Whatever David's intentions, Rush is just glad he can stretch his legs a little more.

Grinning, he pats David's shoulder in a camaraderie way. "Thanks, Dave! You sure, though? It's only for a night, right?" He's pretty sure that they'll be going to Elysion tomorrow, so there won't be much point... at least, Rush thinks there isn't.

“Nonsense.” The Marquis’ tone is final. “Please, make yourself at home. Even if it is for a night.” The smile easily settles itself upon his features once more and he steps back to allow Rush in. Following the motion, the Remnant moves within the threshold, looking around immediately and admiring the… _space_ and _cleanliness_. It’s way better than the Inn, that’s for sure.

“I will see you tomorrow morning, then.” David says, and Rush gives him the thumbs up, already pumped for the adventure ahead.

“Sure thing, Dave!”

* * *

 

A city away, a young girl stands before a large, open window, gazing to the metropolis beyond. In her hands there’s a purple flower and it’s twirled with an inconsistent speed between a thumb and forefinger. Brow knitted in thought, dark hues glance down to the floral and she looks as if she’s about to murmur something aloud, but the door opens behind her.

Whirling immediately, eyes are wide upon seeing the white-robed mage and lips are pursed into fearful stubbornness as the question that has been bothering her rises to the forefront of her mind once more.

“Why do you really need me?”

There’s a chuckle from the other, and he lifts the fan to his lips, hiding the sinister smile that’d arisen.

“Let’s just say… it’s your _brother_ that needs you.”

The flower drops from suddenly slack hands and lips part in shock for this is the first time she’s heard of such a mention in a _long_ while. She starts forward slightly, breath quickening as she glimpses the face of her dearest sibling in her mind’s eye.

“R-Rush…?’’

“Oh, so you _do_ remember him.” He sounds vaguely amused and Irina’s features become awash with anger and _sorrow_.

“Where is he? You took him, didn’t you!” She doesn’t want to imagine what sort of horrors Rush must have gone through… it’s something that has _plagued_ her and she wants to hear that he’s _alright_ , that he’s safe and sound despite being told for so _long_ that he’s just _dead_. She’s always had a feeling he’s been out there—but to hear that he may have been taken by someone like _this_ all along? “All these years… what’d you do with him?!”

Wagram pauses once before he flicks his fan closed, holding the end of it easily within the palm of his hand. “He may very well be the least of your concerns right now. Or… he can become your largest one.”

 _Here_ Irina falters. What exactly does this mage mean by that? Yet, she feels the stirrings of her Mystic Arts come back to her for _this_ is a trump card not known to _many_ save the few closest to her. Only _now_ does she feel her power start to return to her, a true _blessing_ unlike the one she is born with, not needing the Orb to will the Arts alive but she knows she isn’t ready yet. She isn’t _powerful_ enough yet and so she stays her hand no matter how _much_ she wishes to lash out at this man.

“What are you suggesting?” She asks carefully. Half of her doesn’t even _want_ to know because the implications… the implications she is getting from his wording aren’t _favourable_ ones and Rush… everything within her is _desperate_ to see him again. She recalls a blurry image of him, from her childhood memories but such a shape is solidified by the visistones she’s scoured through, the images that her parents have kept. The ones they play as a family on the anniversary when… he had disappeared. They never forgot him. They _couldn’t_.

Another chuckle from Wagram. She is beginning to hate the sound.

“All in due time, Miss Irina.”

He leaves then, and she has half a mind to go after him, to demand _answers_ but…

Her knees buckle instead, and her gaze lands on the previously dropped flower. Picking it up slowly, she holds it to her chest and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Rush…”

It is almost like a prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to leave a comment and/or kudos to tell me whether you enjoy this!!! i really appreciate it! thanks to those who have already done so lkjlaksjf i hope you all continue to like this series!! (eventhoi'mliterallyallovertheplaceomfg)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i"M SO LATE IN UPDATING THIS MY APOLOGIES LKJASF no more sorrow was like 'i dEMAND MORE ATTNEITONS' and i just had to do the thing u____u

Pagus seems quite happy to see another addition, along with Blocter whom Rush got along with really well, in his opinion. Torgal himself… well, he _figures_ the Sovani doesn’t mind him but he vividly remembers the story David has told him about their previous interaction and suddenly finds the less-than-friendly scowls directed towards him understandable.

He’s surprised that the old lady from two nights ago isn’t with their small group, but he guesses she has some important things to take care of involving Athlum’s security while the Marquis is away, or something of that nature. Either way, he isn’t too worried about it.

_~~You should be~~ _ ~~.~~

Along with the three Generals, there’s also a small group of soldiers accompanying them, enough to make Rush feel out of place. This seems _way_ too formal for his tastes now, and he wonders why David invited him along at all because… it’s just going to Congress, right? They’re heading along the safer route of the Ivory Peaks, he imagines, and David has more than enough guard to keep him alive so why bring Rush at all?

He’s kinda relieved—as well as _confused_ —when the _other_ hired mercenaries finally get here.

“I need people who possess skills that are not entirely common. I prefer variety in my ranks.” David tells him when Rush is… _probably_ looking at him weirdly. _And_ has probably mentioned _aloud_ his concerns, embarrassingly enough. The Remnant hadn’t even _noticed_ David break away from giving his soldiers some instructions and now they’re… gone? Okay, so maybe they _aren’t_ coming on the small trip to Elysion. Rush guesses he should ask first before assuming anything weird of the Marquis.

He pulls his attention back to the blond as he continues. “After I assign everyone to proper formations, we’ll be off. I apologize for the wait, Rush.”

Before he can even say that the other doesn’t really _need_ to be sorry, that Rush _understands_ , David is off once more without waiting for an answer, addressing the new arrivals with an amiable smile upon handsome features. He overhears a few formations, the names ‘Loki’, ‘Gabriel’, and ‘Baulson’ and then he _really_ looks and sees Nora among the group and he grins, waving enthusiastically to which she gives a small smirk at before ignoring him completely. However, the small gesture is enough for Rush and he starts to bounce on the balls of his feet, eager to spend some time with her since he _really_ hasn’t seen her in a while. He figures she’s been accepting more guild tasks lately which seems to be the only logical explanation for her absence. 

Plus… the Remnant in her belly seems a bit agitated.

“What’s up with the brat not getting’ in a team?” There’s a brash voice splitting the air and Rush looks to the source. The guy— _Loki_ , he thinks—is looking at him and Rush fidgets when the _others_ turn at the prompting.

David’s tone, as well as his expression, when he answers is strangely unreadable.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” He says simply.

* * *

 

David really doesn’t lie when he says _soon_.

They enter Ivory Peaks, and it doesn’t seem like there are a _lot_ of monsters at first. There’s a Raptor sleeping on the side along with another that is wide awake and lurking and they’re easily dealt with among the flurry of blows that both Torgal and Baulson land upon them with both Loki and Nora standing by raining hexes. Pagus finishes them _both_ off with a powerful Mystic attack and Rush is slightly put off by the fact that he doesn’t even have the _chance_ to act. Still, he can see that David has picked out _really_ good people by the way they all move in synch in their formations, attacking all at the same time or one after the other when it suits them. David himself isn’t someone to mess with, and Rush finds himself admiring the other’s style and performance.

Though, he’s still itching to fight himself because he _did_ have a good night’s sleep and he feels like he hasn’t been out in the field for a _long_ while now (or, at least, from _before_ that blank period in his memory). There might also be a part of him that’s _bursting_ to show off his power. Er, not that he’s an egotist or anything but he kinda wants to impress David. And everyone else. _Mostly_ David though.

He gets what he wishes for within the next ten minutes.

After a few more Raptors they take the _smallest_ detour because Rush practically _feels_ an unknown Remnant’s disgruntlement and the rest of his party doesn’t seem to have much of a choice when he suddenly pelts off down the nature ramp and betwixt a few wide, elevations, yelling over his shoulder “I’ll catch up with you guys later!” and impulsively and _subsequently_ getting himself caught in an ambush. _Not_ the brightest idea, he imagines, but there’s an easy confidence in him that states that he should be able to get out of this one just fine.

That easy confidence quite literally plummets when a few _Raptors_ join the crew of Roseflies and is that the _Dawn Ruler_?

“Rush!” David looks _more_ than a little exasperated when he finally catches up with the rest of the crew (and Rush makes a note to apologize later; he distinctly remembers the Marquis ordering him back when he began running away whilst ignoring such calls) but abruptly stops upon seeing the sudden group of monsters. And maybe because the _ground_ is rumbling, but Rush _really_ hadn’t noticed that. He should probably try and make it up to the Marquis later for the sudden trouble but he’s more concerned about the discomfort the Liafort is sending out in _waves_.

“Pagus!” David barks out, turning to his General and the qsiti immediately snaps to attention.

“The Liafort, Lord David! It seems to be having a Collapse!”

No _wonder_ —the Liafort seems to be in a large amount of _pain_ and _that_ is what Rush _doesn’t_ like to see. He _also_ doesn’t like the dirty look David is shooting his way and he gives a helpless shrug towards him. It’s not like he _intended_ this to happen. The Marquis isn’t thinking _that_ , right? Besides, Rush _had_ said he’d catch up with them later. It’s not like he _forced_ them to come along…

Grumbling to himself, he figures there’s only one _sure_ way to resolve this mess and he waves at David once more to gain his attention before the guy starts to rattle off instructions to the party. Indicating that he’ll take care of this—because David’s halfway across the field with _monsters_ in between them—with a few _well_ emphasized gestures, he’s sure, he checks to make sure an incredibly _intricate_ earring is on with a quick swipe to that side of his head before becoming an incandescent glow of _power_.

Grinning in excitement now, he zips forward in a flurry, already raining punches down upon the nearest monsters and even _those_ attacks are explosive and _bright_ as they connect with his adversaries, creating pulsating _shockwaves_ that _ripple_ through the body, effectively paralyzing them while he finishes them off.

It seems like he pretty much has this battle in the _bag_ with the speed at which he is taking them all down. However, he’s tiring _fast_ and he hopes he can end this soon enough— he doesn’t wish to hit his cap and then have an _episode_ like he did the other night, and that’d be _embarrassing_ when it hasn’t even been a _day_ since joining David.

But then—there’s a sudden flurry on his _right_ and he realises too late that he’s being flanked. He previously thought he’d taken out that group of raptors but apparently _not_ considering their hasty approach. Thinking quickly, Rush figures he should try and intercept _them_ before they got the upper hand but the Dawn Ruler rises up before him, body twisting in a way that alerts him to the signature move coming—

“Forward, men!”

The familiar, _powerful_ shout is heard and before the group of raptors can engage him, _David’s_ union is there, raining a _flurry_ of blows onto them and taking the raptors’ attacks with ease, now that they’ve caught it off-guard.

Heart beating fast at the close encounter, he gives a wave at David. “Thanks!” He calls, to which David shoots a… _less_ than pleasant look in return. More likely the blonde is annoyed that he’d charged into things without listening to him first, but it’s not like Rush _asked_ him to tag along, right?

The fight is easy from there—with David’s unions occupying the others, Rush swiftly takes out the stragglers, focusing on their leaders so that the rest will quickly fall with them. The Dawn Ruler is trickier, but doesn’t put up too much of a fight and with a yell of victory, Rush executes it with neat brutality.

“Sweet!” Rush exclaims, grinning as he starts to turn to face the swiftly approaching footsteps. “We had that fight in the ba--!” His sentence immediately trails off as soon as he registers the stern expression upon tanned features. The deflation in his own hyped stance is probably noticeable, for David seems to soften very _slightly_. Rush still finds him scary, though.

Behind the Marquis, Torgal quickly ushers the others forward. Rush notices Nora shoot him a cocked brow before she heads off with the others, and it’s not too long before they’ve disappeared around the bend, leaving Rush alone with David.

For a moment, David doesn’t speak. His expression doesn’t tell Rush _anything_ , and he’s left shuffling nervously from toe to toe, wondering what lecture is awaiting him now. He tries to guess—but then, the answer is _obvious_ , isn’t it? He’d ran out unexpectedly into a huge monster ambush, forcing David and his men to come and rescue him. Again, it’s not like Rush _asked_ them to, so…

“Rush, you’ve not had any training regarding how to fight in a union, correct?” David starts with this question, and immediately Rush is confused. Isn’t he angry? Then again, Rush isn’t someone to turn down a blessing.

“Nah, not really.” He frowns then, the confusion growing. “What’s up?”

David seems to come to a conclusion and straightens, eyes narrowing at Rush who looks down almost immediately, unable to hold such a gaze. “I was wondering exactly _what_ sort of things you have been taught considering your vast knowledge of the Arts, but we’ll have to start fresh with you in this regard.”

Rush looks up, daring to meet that intense gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Your fighting style is not as harmful to others as you think. There are certain formations I can have you in that won’t put anyone else at risk when you utilize your powers.” Something strange flashes across David’s expression, but it fades quickly. “This means you can fight freely without having to worry about that, and you also have someone to back you up if need be.”

Rush fidgets nervously. It sounded like a lotta work and _risk_ is involved in this, though he supposes that David is better suited to judge that for himself. Still, he has rising doubts. “Are you sure…?”

“Be aware that this is not just for your benefit.” David says sharply, and the stern tone makes Rush cast his gaze to the ground again. “The first and foremost rule in working together with the people in your union is _looking out for each other_. And even _that_ is not limited to the ones in your group. That goes for the rest of your allies as well.”

Okay. That makes sense. Rush can definitely roll with that.

He glances up again, and kinda wishes he hadn’t, for David starts again and Rush sees his features hardening a lot more now.

“What you did back there was impulsive and put everyone with you at risk. I have no idea what you were up to, but you went your own way without warning anyone and without any regard for our safety. The ambush you encountered earlier also put _yourself_ at risk.”

Rush wilts inwardly, shame now aggressively eating him from the inside out. He’s about to protest that he hadn’t _asked_ for them to come after him, but he realises then the depth of David’s words. Even if Rush had been running around blindly, the others are still looking out for him, they’re keeping to that rule and… and Rush honestly doesn’t know what to think of that.

_~~We work alone.~~ _

It's pretty admirable, Rush has to admit.

When David suddenly smiles the tiniest bit, confusion immediately blossoms. It’s _really_ random, and kinda freaks Rush out a bit, but then he realizes he probably voiced his thoughts without meaning to again.

"Sorry." Rush says quietly, quickly before David can comment, and the blonde relaxes a little at the apology.

"It's alright, Rush. So long as you don't do that again for as long as you're with us." Those handsome features are warm once more,  as if the previous hardened expression never existed. It's a little disconcerting,  but he supposes that's how a leader is like. Kinda like the Conqueror— except the Conqueror doesn't exactly _do_ warm and soft.

He suddenly realises he just compared David and the Conqueror together. Not a pleasant thing to do, because David is David and the Conqeuror is, well, the _Conqueror_ but then… how much does he know about _David_ , really?

"Alright." Rush starts now, a little awkwardly now because he doesn't know what to say to that. He decides to end the conversation instead. "Let's catch up with the others!"

David  nods and beckons to him. He waits until Rush moves up beside him and they walk together in silence.

And it's _that_ kinda silence again. The one where David seems completely comfortable while Rush is as uncomfortable as ever. After that lecture as well, Rush doesn't find David as attractive as he first found him. Maybe he was just blinded by first impressions, or maybe it's just the typical getting to know someone better, but Rush finds that latent desire to be with David—as _more_ than a friend—fade. It's probably best to just be… well, _normal_ with him.

Rush’s gaze quickly flicks over to David, and sees that the Marquis is deep within thought himself.

 _Yeah_ , _I shouldn’t be anything more than friends or even_ acquaintances _with anyone here at this point,_ Rush decides, looking back to the path before them. He glimpses the rest of the party way ahead, preparing to make camp for the night. It’ll be a miracle if this lasts. He sorta regrets ever joining up in the first place. He’s way too impulsive for this.

 _It’ll be easier, too, when I finally have to work against them_.

He hopes it won’t come to that.

_~~Wishful thinking.~~ _

* * *

 

Not many know where the Sykes live, and that’s a fortunate thing for the powerful family. Some say they live in the Academy itself, some say in Genaade District. Others say they don’t live in Elysion at all.

 _They are half correct_ , Emma supposes as she ascends the stairs to Marion’s Temple in the dead of night, _but Marina and John are far too clever for their own good_.

She’d arrived not too long ago, instructing the soldiers that’d come with her to have a night’s rest in the local inn. They worried about her, but she assures them she is not one to be worried over. But… though they’re in Elysion now, a supposedly safe place, she doesn’t doubt there are dark conspiracies lurking here.

Especially with the Academy. She trusts John and Marina, but there are others parts of that organisation that are questionable. The Third Committee, they call themselves. She wonders whether Marina and John know anything about them. When she’d been requested to help find Irina, they hadn’t told her much and she was confident to go on just that but… the boy with David _now_ …

Rush. She can summon an image to the forefront of her mind, a little dark-haired boy that smiled a lot and laughed a lot. Marina used to come around a lot with Rush to Athlum, and Jasmine, David’s mother, allowed her son, and him to play in the gardens while their mothers were busy. Emma watched over them then in their stead, and she remembers how well they got along; even Emmy was easily able to play with them, despite being older.

The boy hanging around David now seemed awfully similar but… but she recalls the distress that gripped Marina when a mysterious package was left on her doorstep one day. Marina and John never slept in their worry and Emma had sent them home to Eulam from Athlum to get some proper rest before resuming the search but…

 _No_ , she decides abruptly, _I must find out the truth. I have to prove that that is truly Rush._

She wonders if she’s riding on a false hope when she doesn’t wish to prove instead that Rush Sykes is dead but… nothing has made David laugh and smile as much as Rush had when younger. Even after Jasmine’s death, the boy had been the first to make the young lord crack a grin. Emma misses that.

“Ah, Miss Honeywell.” The qsiti standing at the door greets her, and turns immediately to grant her entrance. “I imagine you’re here to visit the Lady Sykes.”

“Of course.” Emma says, quickly ducking into the temple after Mallus. “I apologize for the late notice.”

“No worries.” He replies, shooting her a reassuring smile. “I’ve been told that they’ve missed you. It’s been a while.”

“It certainly has.” Emma agrees wearily.

As they move further into the temple, Marion’s statue smiles upon them. Their footsteps are the only ones that echo save for one individual that stays kneeling at the feet of the Lady Marshall. She has cloak over her body and face, so Emma can’t easily tell her age. Young, she guesses by the dark locks flowing from the depths of the hood, though she isn’t sure.

“A regular.” Mallus whispers to her, perhaps noticing her stare. “The poor woman can’t sleep, apparently. Marion Marshall gives her solace.”

 _We all wish for solace_ , Emma muses, _though perhaps others like myself find it in other places… like the battlefield and my daughter._

Mallus leads her to the door on the left. He brings out a single key and opens it enough for Emma to glimpse the familiar stairs leading down into the Catacombs. She glances once more around the temple, sees the mysterious woman stationary before the statue and no one else in sight, and turns back to the qsiti.

“Stay safe.” He says and she nods in response before descending into the darkness.

* * *

 

They’re about a day’s walk away from Elysion. They’d make it there by mid-afternoon if monster activity drops, and David would prefer to reunite with Emma as soon as possible. The mystery she’s left him with about Rush is something that has been mulled over in his mind continuously and has only been _added_ to with the prowess Rush has shown in battle. The questions that sprung up upon his origin are ever more numerous than _before_ and David cannot help a silent fume holding down the corners of his lips that night.

He tells his Generals to get some sleep despite not retiring to bed himself just yet. He has far too many things to think about and though he may need their counsel later on, he wants to wait until Emma rejoins them. Her disappearance has obviously not gone unnoticed by the other three but David’s knowledge of it put their minds at ease. The _why_ , however, is left with the Marquis alone.

Then again, he supposes he _knows_ the why. Emma left for Elysion early, and David can only guess that means she’s off to find answers about whoever Rush is. The blond hopes she will confide in him her source… though he has to admit there’s only _one_ person she’ll set off on a journey for late at night.

But then… what does Marina Sykes know? Perhaps she’s cognizant of who Rush is? Is there a connection?

David bows his head slightly, feeling a headache coming on. This is troublesome. He needs to stop worrying. Emma will tell him everything once he meets her again, but on the _what_ is questionable. After all, Emma did not decide to go alone and before everyone else for nothing.

He wouldn’t stress over this so much if Emma hadn’t reacted so badly to Rush’s name and actually found him _familiar_. That only sheds suspicion upon the whole situation, and David can’t help but think this is all related to Irina’s kidnapping somehow.

_Perhaps it’s just wishful thinking._

He’s getting lax. He shouldn’t hope that’s the case, for he may miss details on both sides: Irina’s disappearance and the boy named Rush. And… he wants to separate the two solely because he doesn’t want to think that Rush is a bad person.

He can’t deny that the Sykes are a definitive link in all this, however.

Sighing, he sits up from his makeshift bed, glancing around his spacious tent. He can’t see very much with the lack of light. He imagines it’s still somewhere around midnight right now but he can hear a few noises outside that indicate the movement of a few troops, unable to sleep themselves. The outline of Torgal is seen clearly outside, shadows born from the flickering light of a few torches and David gets up slowly, stretching so as to ease his stiff body. He’d been lying down for quite some time trying to get to sleep. Maybe a walk will benefit him.

“My Lord?”

Torgal’s voice impassively greets him as David nudges the tent flap away. He steps out, taking a quick glance around to orientate himself. He sees Loki and Baulson by the cliffs, perhaps having small banter. Torgal seems to be the only night guard along with Gabriel leaning casually against a nearby boulder. He seems to be falling asleep but David doesn’t see any problem with it. However, his attention is mainly caught by Nora.

Waving Torgal away politely, he begins to make his way over to her. He knows the layout of this temporary campsite already and he isn’t blind to the fact that the tent she’s standing outside of is Rush’s. She seems to be hesitating on entering, though for _what_ he’s not entirely sure. Her body language insinuates she’s nervous, which is strange. Nora seems the type to not be afraid of expressing herself, and from what David has seen, she’s friendly with Rush.

Before he can make more than a few steps in her direction however, she abruptly turns—connecting gazes briefly with him in the process—before leaving in a hurry, a loud huff heard escaping her lips.

 _Does she like him?_ David has to wonder, pausing in bewilderment at the odd behaviour displayed. Maybe Nora had been about to confess something. It’s the only thing he can think of that explains her nervousness. And maybe feeling queasy comes with it, considering the way she held her stomach with one hand.

Upon that initial thought, however, he feels a faint competitiveness rising in him. He’s not sure of the origin, but… well, it seems odd to see Nora and Rush together. Like a couple. The thought is… unsettling.

Pursing his lips, he immediately banishes that train of thought from his mind. No good lingering on those things. Besides, he needs to talk to Rush himself, perhaps apologize for the curt tone he’d used with him after the battle. It’s good to clear the air, and David feels as if they need to re-establish the easy-going vibe they had before. David can’t deny he misses that.

Quietly, he makes his way over. He hears the soft snores of sleeping fighters around him, exhausted from their travelling, the noise carrying easily through the material of the tents. Even in this familiar setting, he feels nervous somehow. Perhaps it’s the current context he’s moving in, but he tries to push that aside. Mayb—

 _NO_.

He halts. A harsh gasp escapes him.

_Kellendros? Why—_

Confusion reigns his mind, confusion as to why she’s reacting so _violently_ to him proceeding any further. He remembers this happening before with Rush, but not to _this_ extent. Her anger and _fear_ is incredibly _palpable_ , piercing and _overwhelming_ in nature and he’s not sure how to handle it. The thought to go back crosses his mind and the sudden emotion lessens very _slightly_ in response, but he shakes his head.

 _No_. He is resolute and stubborn in his response, and ignores the rage _throbbing_ at his right temple. The pain is perhaps another way to try to stop him, but he brushes it aside. He’s used to this. Kellendros is normally temperamental.

Although, towards someone like _Rush_ … it’s questionable. Kellendros tends to become furious when it’s attacks don’t hit the target, or when it doesn’t do much damage. To think that the Remnant is so agitated over a mitra… that’s another mystery to add to the list about Rush.

Gritting his teeth now, he does his best to ignore the pain assaulting him and moves forward. A hand reaches out now, hovering before the tent flap.

“Rush?” He calls out softly. A beat, then—

“Come in.”

Strange. Rush’s voice sounds different. Maybe David woke him up?

He hesitates one more second before deciding to enter.

It’s dark inside save for the faint glow emanating from where Rush is settled. At first, David thinks the green light originates _from_ the other male, but he realizes then something glowing in Rush’s palm. A small stud, it seems to be, the one that Rush had touched briefly before fighting. David guesses it’s some sort of Remnant, and he would’ve asked if not for the odd expression Rush has upon his face.

Normally, Rush regards him with a grin, or even with incredibly animated expressions, ones that told David every single emotion that Rush feels. At least, in the time that David has known him. Now, there’s only a pleased, controlled smile gracing his features, and his posture is straighter and held properly unlike the slumped style before. If this _is_ the Rush he knows, then Rush would be struggling to reign in a frown, trying not to show that he’s still affected by David’s words.

Or maybe David is putting too much faith into his analysis of Rush’s personality. Perhaps Rush is a brilliant actor, and he’s been misinterpreting things all along.

_You think too much._

Emmy’s voice echoes in his mind, and he has to admit that she was right then, and she’s right _now_. But he can’t take any chances. Not when Rush may be dangerous.

“Are you well, Rush?” He asks softly, deciding to settle into a crouch to avoid ducking his head from the low hanging of the tent.

“Yeah, of course.” Rush’s smile is warm and _calm_. Rush is usually excited and happy. This is weird. But, again, David hasn’t known him for too long. Maybe this is just another side of Rush he had yet to see. “Missed you, Dave.” A teasing grin finally eases it’s way onto Rush’s features and David begins to slowly relax.

“It’s hardly been a few hours.” David says, though his lips are curved with a pleased light.  He doesn’t know why he feels content upon hearing such a thing. He tries not to dwell on it too long.

“A _long_ few hours.” Rush says and he stretches, yawning. David finds himself watching the change of expression upon the other’s face closely. “I dunno. What’ve you been up to?”

It’s an odd question to ask. Rush should know, shouldn’t he?

“Just… thinking.” David admits. Rush tilts his head in silent inquiry, eyes growing a little wider in curiosity. It’s adorable, in a way. “About everything. I’m… worried.”

Rush leans forward, frowning now. “About what? I mean, what’re you worried about in particular?”

“Ah…” David hesitates, but he sees the genuine concern in Rush’s eyes. “Well. I’m worried about Irina’s kidnapping. I’m not sure how to save her, but I’ll feel more secure once I get the information I need.”

Something changes in Rush. It’s quick, sudden. The lapse is so fast that David doesn’t have time to properly recognize the emotion that flashes within the other’s eyes. The fact itself is disconcerting, but Rush’s smile is back up again. It feels… off.

“You’ll be able to save her.” Rush assures him and he suddenly grasps David’s forearm. His grip is gentle, David notices, and he tries to relax his suddenly tense muscles. “I know you will.” He pauses then, eyes darting down to their physical connection before he decides to sit back once more. David expects him to be flustered, but he seems calm, in control. However, David certainly doesn’t expect the next words.

“You’re Dave, after all.”

It’s accompanied by a peculiar grin, but David finds himself smiling back.

“Thank you, Rush.” He appreciates the confidence in the other’s tone.

“Well,” Rush starts, letting out a large sigh. He’s becoming more lax in his posture, David notices. “I should probably let you sleep now. You gotta big day tomorrow, right? Unless…” Rush tilts his head. “There’s something else you wanna ask me?”

David doesn’t answer straight away. There are _so_ many things he wants to ask Rush, but then what guarantee would there be of the response being _honest_? He could trust Rush. He _could_. But does he want to?

It seems like his lack of reply is answer enough. Rush laughs suddenly, and eases back comfortably. “Don’t ask if you don’t wanna know the truth, right?” He says teasingly, but David feels unsettled.

_Who are you, Rush?_

“That’s true.” David agrees, a little more seriously than intended, and stands. Perhaps later. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Rush hums in acknowledgement, tilting his head as David opens the tent flap. “Night, Dave!”

His farewell is quiet and contemplative.

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bTW THO THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE views and the kudos and the subscribes!!!! hhh i honestly didn't think this fic would get hat many considering i haven't really been putting enough into it lkjaskfj EITHERWAY i hope y'all enjoyed this chapter!!!!!!


End file.
